#i feel like the shoes are probably going to be pinker than expected but i guess we’ll have to see when they get here LOL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ineloqueent · 3 years

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clouds of snow

Roger Taylor x Reader

synopsis: you and Roger are snowed in. an attempt to cheer up a gloomy Rog turns into an elaborate plan, and the results are cosy.

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

1975

It had begun to snow shortly after you’d woke up, and even now, two hours later, it had yet to stop.

You’d always known that your best friend— and flatmate— had a childish side, and when the snow had started to fall that morning, this childish side had come out.

He’d called your name from the kitchen, and sleepily, half-dressed in business wear for your drab office job but still wearing pyjamas on your lower half, you’d ambled out of your room to find him leaning out of the window, as the snow fell in his hair.

Realising what he was doing, you gave a shout of alarm.

“Roger, you’ll freeze to death!”

He turned to look at you, a smile forming on his lips. “If I don’t fall to it first.”

“What—”

His eyes widened and he waved his arms in frantic circles, leaning farther out over the windowsill.

You cried out and rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his waist before he could lean any more than he already had.

He laughed and braced himself on the windowsill with one arm, wrapping his other around you as you rested your cheek against his back.

“Don’t do that,” you murmured.

He ruffled your hair, shifting slightly in your grasp. “Would you miss me if I was gone?”

“Of course not,” you scoffed, “but who would pay the other half of the rent?”

“Oh, you’re lethal,” said Roger, shaking his head as he turned to face you, his arms winding around your frame. You clung to him still, your chin on his chest.

“How come you’ve lasted this long, then?”

He snorted. “Because I’m used to you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you calling me boring?”

“‘Course not. You keep surprising me every day. It’s a wonder I haven’t moved out yet.”

“And on that note,” you said, unclasping his hands from behind you, before proceeding to disentangle yourself from his embrace, “I’m going to work, so that if you do decide to move out, I can still afford to pay the lease.”

“Already?” said Roger, crossing his arms and pouting, as you nodded and hurried back to your bedroom to finish getting dressed.

You left the door open a crack, because he seemed in the mood to talk, and would probably expect a response from you when he did so.

“Oh, at least stay for coffee, Y/N. We haven’t done anything together in ages.”

You smirked to yourself at his petulant tone, pulling on your newly-polished shoes whilst hopping from foot to foot, trying not to lose your balance.

“Y/N?”

Now properly dressed, you opened your bedroom door and walked straight into your best friend, who was leaning against the doorframe. You took a retreating step.

Folding your arms as well, you considered.

“C’mon,” he said, with a little dip of his head, pleading with those big eyes of his. “Just you and me.” He nudged your shoulder. “Just for a little bit.”

You pretended to continue your consideration, but really, you had already made up your mind.

“Fine,” you said, and Roger smiled gorgeously. “But if I’m late, again, I’m having you ring them and butter them up as your charming self.”

His smile only broadened, as he winked and pushed off of the doorframe. “I’ll go make coffee.”

You shook your head at his suave demeanour, then resumed in collecting your things for work.

A few minutes later, the smell of coffee had begun to waft through the flat, and you made your way back into the main living area to find Roger leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, frowning as he listened to something on the radio.

“Y/N,” he murmured when he saw you, “come listen to this.”

“What?” you said, straightening your cuffs as you made for the kitchen. “Have the Bay City Rollers knocked Queen out of a number one spot again?”

Roger made a face. “Ha ha, very funny. Happened once, will never let it happen again.” He passed you your coffee, and you thanked him with a nod. “No, this is about the weather.”

“The weather?”

“Yeah, listen.” He reached over and turned up the volume on the radio, and the two of you leaned closer to the apparatus, almost with your heads together.

You wrinkled your nose, feigning disgust at your closeness, though really you felt anything but. Roger rolled his eyes at you and tossed his head in the direction of the radio. You sighed and refocused on the presenter’s voice.

“We once again would like to remind you of London’s severe weather warning, and the national advisory to avoid driving through the city. The underground too, is overwhelmed, so if you were planning on getting to work via the Tube, think again. With the current repairs, and the inclement weather having demobilised several stations, burying them under a blanket of snow, there’s no knowing when you’d get to work, or whether you’d ever make it back.”

Here, the radio presented laughed, and you glanced over at Roger.

“Bit of a morbid sense of humour, that one.”

Roger snickered, “Yeah, bit.”

“Once again, we strongly recommend not travelling during this weather, if at all avoidable, and the Prime Minister seems to agree. Stay safe out there, London.

We now return to our regular broadcast, bringing you the best music of yesterday, today, and even that of tomorrow. Coming up next, an oldie but goldie, Shocking Blue’s ‘Venus’…”

Roger dialled down the volume again.

“So,” he raised his eyebrows at you. “Stay home with me?”

You tapped his nose with your forefinger, and straightened up. “Yeah, why not?”

He grinned.

⭒

“I am so bloody bored, I actually wouldn’t mind an argument with Brian.”

It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and having finished your coffee that morning, you had changed back into loungewear, whilst Roger had set about attempting to find a film to watch on the telly.

Between Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and the dreadfully dull and inaptly named Great Gatsby— the book of which Roger insisted was far better than the shoddy film— the two of you had turned to board games. When Roger had beat you seven times in a row at Scrabble, you’d just about had enough, and had gone to the kitchen to make hot chocolate, skipping lunch entirely in favour of dessert.

Four cups of hot chocolate later— two for each of you— Roger had flopped down on the couch, his head and upper torso hanging over the armrest, his legs splayed on the sofa cushions, with a long-suffering sigh.

“I don’t think Brian would agree,” you laughed, finishing the nail you were painting. You were painting the nails of one hand black and the other white, as you’d once promised Freddie and Brian you would. You’d never had both the time and energy to fulfill your promise, until now, nearly a year later, despite Deacy’s efforts to coerce you into doing so, because he and Freddie had been running a bet as to when you would finally get to it.

“Hm. He’s probably off with Chrissie.” Roger shifted, pushing hair out of his eyes. His face was growing pinker the longer he remained suspended upside down. “I haven’t got a Chrissie,” he mumbled.

You screwed the cap back on the black nail polish, and looked over at your best friend. “You’ve got me,” you said softly.

“Yeah, and I’d give my life for you,” he smiled rather sadly, “but it’s not the same, is it?”

In all honesty, it hurt a little to hear him say that. You knew you were not to Roger what Chrissie was to Brian, but it hurt to know that you weren’t enough.

“Roger,” you began slowly, folding your legs beneath you, “are you lonely?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he turned his gaze on you. “Bit, yeah,” he said quietly.

This confession hurt all the more. You wanted to gather him into your arms and hug him to you until all the loneliness dispersed from his very soul.

You didn’t, though. You and Roger had always been close, but this would bring you a little too close. A little too close to something he clearly didn’t want, even if you might have been open to the idea. A little more than open, really, but you pushed that thought to the back of your mind, and the feeling to the depths of your heart.

He’d said nothing more in your silence, and when you looked at him again, he had tugged his lower lip between his teeth, and his eyes seemed more like the ocean than ever— watery.

“Rog,” you said.

“Hm?”

“We could build a fort. A pillow fort.”

His smile was small, but it was there. “The one you always tell me not to make because it’ll ruin the sofa cushions?”

“Yes,” you sighed, “with the splinters you get from these hardwood floors, they’ll scuff up the cushions nicely. And I can’t afford new ones.”

Roger sat up, brightened at the prospect of a pillow fort. “You know I can. I’ll gladly buy you new ones. So, pillow fort?”

His sudden excitement was almost comical, and you so loved seeing that smile back on his face, so you conceded.

“Yeah, alright then.”

“Oh, I’ll love you forever!” He stooped and kissed your cheek in elation, and you pushed him away.

“Get off, you big sap.”

He only laughed, and threw a cushion at you. “Get building, Y/N. We don’t have all day.”

⭒

It was a large-scale construction, your pillow fort. It spanned the whole of the living room floor, which, relatively speaking, wasn’t a lot, as the property you and Roger shared was in London, where a flat cost an arm and a leg, and half a heart as well. All the same, it was still quite impressive.

The pillow fort employed four blankets, six sofa cushions, five pillows, and two rugs, and was wide enough to crawl through and around the coffee table, in a sort of loop. Roger had retrieved torches and switched them on beneath coffee filters, to create makeshift lamps. In the meantime, you’d collected books and magazines, for something to do, and a tin of Roger’s favourite biscuits— the latter in hope of cheering him up ever the more, to keep at bay that loneliness.

“It’s brilliant,” said Roger, standing outside of the fort to admire the results of your teamwork. “It’s the best bloody pillow fort I’ve ever seen.”

You opened the tin of biscuits, a book already in your lap.

“You coming in, or what?” you asked. “You promised you’d read me Gatsby, and I’ve got the only biscuits in the house.”

“Is that so?” Roger mused, and a scuffling sound announced his entrance to the pillow fort, which, in your humble opinion, was really more of a castle.

The blankets rustled as he made his way toward you, and you glanced up at the cotton ceiling.

“Watch it, Rog. The whole place’ll come down in a second.”

Roger only laughed, but the cushion-wall at your side seemed about ready to fall.

“Roger,” you said again, as he came into view. “Seriously, be careful. All our hard work will be for nothing.”

“And to think you weren’t taking this seriously at the beginning, eh? Now you’d give up those biscuits to save it.”

Your tone was warning, “Rog, I really think you should—”

At that moment, the cushion at your side tilted dangerously, and you grabbed Roger’s arm to pull him away from the wall, because his motion was what had upset it in the first place.

But it was too late, and instead of pulling Roger out of the line of fire, you pulled the whole place down around you— and him atop you.

The blanket fell over his head as the walls around you collapsed, and Roger narrowly avoided falling flat upon you, bracing himself on his elbows, at your sides.

He laughed, and despite your slight contempt at him ruining the fort before you’d even had the chance to enjoy it, you laughed too.

His hair hung down over his face and fell in your eyes, and you batted golden streaks away as he continued to laugh, giddily.

“Oh, I’ve not had so much fun in ages,” he said, an echo of his statement from the morning, though this was an expression of happiness, rather than of complaint.

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, me neither.”

But Roger had gone abruptly silent.

His chest rose and fell in the wake of his laughter, but the smile had faded from his lips, his eyes.

Then he lowered his mouth to yours, trading a soft breath with you, before he kissed you.

Something swept over you, a tide, a wind, a fog, a daze— you knew not what, but it swept over you, and slowly, devoured you. It was like clouds, only these clouds were unfamiliar, warm in place of cold when, logically, they should have been cold. This was like looking at clouds, and realising that you’d been looking at clouds wrong for all your life.

Because something had to have changed, didn’t it? You had never felt Roger’s touch in this way, nor longed for it so much as you did now, even with it still upon you.

You’d looked at Roger wrong for all your life, it seemed.

Your hands came to rest on either side of his face, before they carded through his hair, and you kissed him deeply, savouring the taste of chocolate which still lingered on his lips, savouring his sudden closeness to you, the softness of his kiss— far softer than the pillows which had toppled about you and landed you in this beautiful mess in the first place.

You pushed his shoulder so that he fell to his side and you could wrap yourself around him and meld into his form, and he yielded to your touch as equally as he reciprocated it.

When he broke the kiss, it was with a dazed expression and swollen, parted lips, and you swallowed thickly, glancing away and hoping dearly that he was not about to express regret for what he had done.

He didn’t.

“Maybe it is the same,” he whispered.

“What?” you murmured back, confused.

He raised his hand and his fingertips traced your jaw, his eyes following in an intimate gaze. “I said I didn’t have someone, you know, but maybe I do. Maybe it could be the same. Maybe we could be both. Friends, and—”

His breath faltered, and you reached for his hand. “Go on, Rog.”

“Lovers,” he suggested quietly.

You didn’t think about it, because it was not a matter to be thought of. This was to be felt, and nothing more.

“I’d love that.”

He blinked. “Pun… not intended?”

You swatted at him, rolling your eyes, and that light, fluttering laughter bubbled up in his throat again, warm and familiar.

“I hate you,” you said.

“Good,” Roger whispered, touching his nose to yours. His words hummed on your lips. “Because I think I love you more than ever.”

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #roger taylor x reader #fic

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juniorfics · 3 years

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Favorite color

mina x GN!reader

written by: R

word count: 1.8k

Warning!: one-sided pining, the word dude used as slang, slight angst, and just a wee bit of internalized homophobia (but only for like, a paragraph) ((also, mina might be slightly out of character, so..sorry about that :p))

y/n was distraught.

No, distraught wasn't the right word...conflicted maybe? Well, whatever the correct word is, they were feeling it.

Allow me to give a bit of context; you see, y/n was crushing on someone. Quite aggressively, actually. they couldn't stop thinking about them. the way they smiled, the way their hair bounced slightly when they walked, the way they could brighten a room so easily with only their presence. Yes, y/n was crushing, but that wasn't the issue. they've had many crushes before. So many, some would see it as a bit of a problem. No, the crushing itself wasn't a huge deal, rather, it was who the crush was on. The gender of the person, to be more specific.

y/n was always more attracted to guys, never finding herself attracted to females in any sort of romantic way. But ever since their first year of high school had begun, it seemed to them that that might not be the case anymore. All because of a certain pink-haired individual. Well, pink hair is a bit of an understatement. Everything about her is pink! Her hair, her skin, her personality, everything! And it suited her too, the color pink. She was a very bright and optimistic person, looking to the bright side of things as often as she could, making others happy by just simply being herself. Not to mention she was very pretty to look at, but that’s more of an opinion that can vary from person to person.

It's pretty safe to say that y/n was more than a bit confused when these feelings first emerged. they can practically pinpoint the moment it happened- when all this crushing began. It was during the school festival, back when they were all still first years. To be more precise, it was when 1-A was performing their concert. The two of them hadn't been in the same class at the time, in fact, y/n wasn't even planning on going to the concert at all, but their friend had convinced them that it would be fun, and they eventually caved, agreeing to go only if he would buy them a strawberry-banana crepe afterward. They had managed to get good seats near the front and patiently waited for the show to start. Then, the lights went out, the curtains opened, and a bunch of people, including their friend, began shouting out the name of one of the girls on stage. ‘Fanboys..’ they thought, waiting for the show to start. Then, before they knew it, the music started, and a bunch of dancers came out. That's when they saw her- Ashido. they had remembered her from the sports festival, as well as seeing her in the hallway a few times. they thought nothing of it and continued enjoying the show. But then, something happened that would change y/n’s perception of the world forever- Ashido had winked.

Granted, Ashido hadn't winked directly at her, rather to that general area of the audience, but y/n saw it nonetheless, and suddenly, their heart had started beating faster, their face steadily increasing in temperature, their hands went clammy and their mouth went dry. Why were they feeling like this? they had never reacted to anything as subtle as a wink this aggressively before. Plus, they had never developed a crush for someone this quickly before, ever! Even their fastest crush had taken a day to develop. ‘Wait, crush? No, I can't have a crush on her! That-that's impossible!’ they thought, shaking their head. they had tuned out the rest of the concert at this point. ‘I don’t like her! No, I can't like her! I like guys! Dudes! Men! people who portray as masculine! I don't like girls! Never have, never will!’ they thought, the words sounding like screams to them. 'And besides! The wink probably wasn't even for me. There's no way she could even see me among all these other people! Yeah, it was probably just to the crowd.’ that's what they told themself, but there was a small voice in the back of their mind that stayed with them for the rest of the day, once the concert was over, while they were eating the crepe they were promised, while they were lying in their bed in the middle of the night; “what if it was for me? What if she did see me? What if she winked at me?’

Over the next few months, they had come to terms with their emotions, accepting the fact that they did, indeed, have a crush on Ashido. Well, less of a crush, more of an obsession. But hey, this was how they always handled these things. their feelings were still a bit confusing, but they couldn't just ignore them. they promised themselves a long time ago that they would always acknowledge their feelings, no matter who they were for. So this has become y/n’s current dilemma. They were already halfway through their second year and they hadn't even made an attempt at confessing. However, a few weeks ago, they decided that they would confess on the last day of April.

Which just so happened to be today.

y/n was extremely nervous. they were gonna confess her feelings, of course they were nervous! But they told themself they would, and that's what they were gonna do.

The final bell rang, and school was officially over. y/n practically jumped out of their seat, speed walking out of the classroom, and into the hallway. This was it! they were gonna confess her feelings! they had to find Ashido first, though. Luckily, they had memorized Ashido’s schedule, and what hallways she normally took, so this wouldn't really be a problem. Yes, a bit stalkerish, but it came in handy for moments like this. Finally, they got to the hallway they needed to be at and waited for a moment. Soon enough, a bunch of footsteps, along with idle chatter, got closer and closer, and closer, until-

“Aghhh, today’s training was super tough today! I'm so soreee…”

“Right? I can barely feel my legs, it's like I'm walking on jello,”

“It doesn't help that midterms are coming up as well, my brain is just as sore,”

y/n watched as the friend group passed by, not even noticing them. Just when they were far enough so it didn't seem creepy, they walked out, clearing their throat.

“U-um...Ashido?”

The group turned around, signs of confusion on their faces. The girl in question stepped towards them slightly, a small bounce in her step.

“Hmm?”

y/n’s face tinted pink. they hoped it wasn't too noticeable. “U-uh, hi. I-i know you don't know me, b-but do you think I could talk to you for a sec? I-it won't take long, promise!” they blurted out, hands behind their back.

Ashido smiled, thinking it was probably a shy fan or something. “Yea, of course! What's up?”

There was a small silence.

“...a-alone?” y/n muttered, their face getting slightly redder.

Ashido blinked. “Oh, alright!-” she turned to her friends, making a small shooing motion with her hand.- “you guys go on ahead! I'll catch up later,”

“Well, okay. Just don't take too long, or we're gonna get boba tea without you!” the blonde one joked, waving behind him as the other two followed after him. Ashido stuck her tongue out at them, before chuckling and turning back to face y/n.

“So, what were you saying?” she said, smiling at them.

y/n almost had a heart attack. ‘So cute..’ they thought, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt. “W-well, I just wanted to-”

“Wait...you’re the crush dude, right?” Ashido questioned, snapping her fingers as if she had an ‘aha!’ moment.

y/n blinked. “...c-crush dude?”

“Yea! I've heard about you from some of the general student kids!”

“O-oh...well I just wanted to tell you that-”

“Wait, WAIT! Don't tell me...you like one of my friends, right?”

“H-huh? No, that's not-”

“Lemme guess, it's Denki, isn't it? Wait, no, you don't really seem like you’d be into him...what about Hanta? He's pretty cool, and you guys would look good together! Ooh, did you want me to tell him to you? Cause I can do that if you want-”

“ASHIDO!” y/n yelled, getting frustrated. Ashido froze, looking at y/n. She admits that she does have a tendency to talk over people, but she definitely didn't expect someone like y/n to flat out yell at her. y/n took a deep breath, looking back at Ashido.

“Look, i-I'm sorry I yelled, it's just- I have something really important I wanna tell you.” they looked at the ground, their blush getting darker. Ashido wasn't saying anything, so they began speaking again.

“I-i don't like any of your friends...I like you, Ashido. A-and I'm not entirely sure if you swing that way or anything, to be honest, I didn't think I did either, but here I am!” they chuckled nervously, staring at their shoes. “A-anyway, what I'm trying to say is, y-you don't have to reciprocate, I-i just thought you should know.”

they looked up, finally ready to see Ashido's reaction, and- blank. Her face was completely blank. y/n could feel tears welling up in their eyes. Had they said something wrong? Who were they kidding, of course they had. they had confessed to a girl. Ashido probably thought they were super weird. To make matters worse, they’ve never even spoken to each other before this! y/n had completely screwed up. If there was any sort of chance that they could've been friends, let alone romantic partners, it was all gone now. they sniffed, wiping their eyes. they turned around, not wanting to hear any of the comments they expected.

“Hey, wait!”

they froze, turning back around. Ashido was a few steps closer now, a look of concern on her face. She looked like she had to say something, but couldn't find the words to do so. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke, clearly nervous.

“Well, first of all, thank you for telling me. I appreciate it. And, um…” her face began getting pinker. “I...I wouldn't mind going on a date. A-as long as you’re comfortable with it, of course.” she smiled, rubbing the back of her neck.

A date? y/n couldn't believe it. they were speechless. they didn't think they were weird, or a freak, or anything? “You...you don't think I'm weird? We’ve never even talked..”

“Well, that may be true, but that's what dates are for, right? To get to know someone better! Plus, it would be nice being seen in public with someone as cute as you!” she winked, a huge grin on her face.

‘C-cute?!?!? She thinks I'm cute!! Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg-’ y/n’s face was practically as red as an apple, but so was Ashido's, so they felt a little bit better about it.

“Y-yeah, a date sounds wonderful,” they said, fidgeting with the hem of their shirt again. “I-i’m free on the 4th!”

“Alrighty then! Here, gimme your phone.”

They then traded numbers, and Ashido ran off to meet up with her friends again, promising to work out the details later. y/n smiled.

Yep, there was no denying it- pink was definitely their favorite color.

#Mina #Ashido #Mina Ashido #mina x reader #mina x y/n #y/n #favorite color #bnha #my hero academia #my hero x reader #mha #slight angst #just a tad bit of homophobia #please dont cancel me for this-#yuri #fanfiction #fanfic

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0pretty-setters-squad0 · 4 years

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Hugs (F) Kakashi x Iruka

Woot, time for my favorite Naruto ship of all time. I ship Kakashi and Iruka so fucking hard, it makes my heart happy. Now let's get on with the story. Also, I'm pretty sure that Iruka rly would give the best hugs tbh.

Kakashi POV "Are we almost homeeeee?" Naruto complains, walking next to me. "Yes, for the fourth time in the past three minutes, we are almost home," I sighed.

Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and I were all headed home from our mission to take Tazuna home. The mission was a success, in a way, but it was more stressful than expected. I just wanted to be home already. A few minutes passed as we walked toward the village. Sakura was always either watching Sasuke, or asking me a question about chakra. Naruto was pretty loud, rambling about what a great ninja he would be. Sasuke was silent the whole time, just walking with his hands in his pockets. I was reading as we walked, but my mind wasn't focused on the words in front of me. I was thinking about Iruka waiting for me back at home. Now, we weren't together or anything. I'm not even sure if his door swings that way. I wish we were together, though. He probably gives the best hugs after a long day. Or a long mission, like this one. I was pulled from my thoughts by Naruto yelling. "LOOK IT'S THE VILLAGE GATE! WE'RE HOME!" "Thank god," I whispered under my breath. After what seemed like forever to me, we made it to the gate, splitting up and each going our own ways. The first thing I had to do was to go to the hokage's office and give a mission report. That hopefully wouldn't take too long. After that, I could go and find Iruka. As expected, the mission report with the hokage didn't take too long. I was just walking out the door of the hokage's office when I felt someone run right into me. I looked down as I closed the door behind me to see who had run into me. When I saw who it was, my heart skipped a beat. Jesus, keep it cool, Kakashi, you idiot. I tried, but I couldn't help it, he always gave me butterflies. "Oh, hey Iruka, what are you doing here?" I asked smoothly. "I was actually looking for you," he rubbed the back of his neck, regaining his balance from when he stumbled. "Well, you found me," I gave him a kind smile, "What did you need?" "I was gonna ask how Naruto did on the mission, I was worried about him." "He did fine. He did overwork himself a little bit, but he was alright otherwise. No major injuries or anything like that. I'm not sure how he feels emotionally, he seemed a little shaken when two other ninja died." "Oh, I didn't realize the mission was such a high rank that someone would die," Iruka looked nervous. "Well, it wasn't supposed to be, but it ended up escalating pretty quickly. We ended up having to face Zabuza and a young boy he was working with, Haku. Both Zabuza and Haku died during our mission." Iruka seemed shocked when I mentioned Zabuza. "I'm sorry to hear that, Kakashi," Iruka looked kinda sad if I was being honest. I shrugged. "It's not your fault, no need to be sorry. Although, you could still make it up to me." "H-How?" Iruka seemed flustered. He always seemed flustered around me. I hated that. I wanted him to be comfortable enough around me to relax. "Come with me to get some ramen, I'm hungry from walking so far to get home." "Okay, sounds good," Iruka accepted my offer. The two of us walked to the ramen shop, Iruka telling me about the academy and what happened while I was away on the mission. We sat at the ramen place, and of course I used my speedy eating technique, so I finished a while before Iruka. Even though I was done eating, I obviously sat with Iruka, just pleasantly chatting as he ate his own food. As we finished, I pulled out my money to pay. "I got it," I told the brunette, paying for his food. "Kakashi, you didn't have to, let me pay you back," Iruka looked at me with those kind eyes. "No worries, I already paid for it, and I'm not letting you pay me back." We then walked out onto the street, beginning to stroll to the park. It was a beautiful day, and it was nice to be outside, but I was tired of the mission. "Iruka, I'm getting a little tired from the mission-" Iruka cut me off. "Oh of course, sorry to keep you so long," Iruka rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Let me finish," I spoke with a gentle smile and a chuckle, "I was going to say that I was gonna head home and ask if you wanted to come with and hang out there." Iruka seemed surprised by my offer. His cheeks grew a little pinker than normal. I have to admit, the thought of being alone with Iruka made my cheeks heat up to, but thank god for my mask covering it up. "Oh, well I don't want to be a bother." "You're never a bother, Iruka, it may be more of a bother if I had to just sit alone." "In that case, I'd like that." The walk to my home passed fairly quickly. As we arrived, I unlocked the door and held it open for Iruka to step in. Once we were both inside, we slipped off our shoes. After, we walked to my couch and sat down with a fair amount of space between us. My house wasn't decorated much, but it was alright. I had a black couch and a small matching chair, with a coffee table in the center of the room. The walls were bare, aside from the heather grey paint that covered them. As for the rest of the house, I had an island in the kitchen, with four stools that sat at it. My bedroom was probably the most furnished in the house, having my bed, a stand next to the bed, a small chair and a lamp that sat next to it. "You want a drink?" I questioned Iruka, moving from the couch and to the kitchen. "Sure. Water?" I grabbed two glasses and filled them with water, pulling out one of the island stools and sitting down on it. I slid one glass across the island to Iruka, who stayed standing, but leaned forward and supported himself on his elbows. "How's everything going at the academy?" "Good, but I have another energetic one this year." "Yeah? Which one is it now?" I chuckled. "Konohamaru," Iruka sighed, "You ever met him?" "I've definitely seen how energetic he is, if that's what you're asking. He looks up to Naruto, and they sure do make a pair, don't they?" "Yeah, they definitely do," Iruka let out a laugh. "Well, I'm glad things are going smoothly at the academy," I spoke, "What about with you? How are things?" "Same as always I guess," the shorter man shrugged. Iruka POV Why was he asking about me? I'm not that important. "How about you?" I asked the silver-haired ninja. "I guess everything is the same with me too," he breathed out a humorless laugh. "That good huh?" "I don't know, I guess I'm just a little down." "Care to share?" I asked him, concern evident on my face. "You don't wanna hear about my issues, Iruka." "Well, I asked didn't I?" I shot him a reassuring smile as I moved around the table to sit next to Kakashi. "It's stupid, makes me feel like a damn school girl." School girl? What in the world is he talking about? "I have a crush, of all things. I think it's more than a crush, too, and I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure if he even likes guys." HE? KAKASHI LIKES GUYS. Calm down, Iruka, just because he likes guys does not mean he likes you. "Well, I'm sure he likes you too. The only thing you could do is tell him, you know." "So you think I should tell him? What if he thinks it's weird?" "I'm sure if he's a good guy, he'll be fine if you have a crush. I mean, how many girls have had crushes on you over the years? Crushes are normal, Kakashi." "I told you I think it's more than that," Kakashi took a breath, "You know what? Fuck it, I'm just gonna tell him." Well, I hope he likes you as much as I do. I hope he treats you well. "I like you." "What?" I was taken aback by what Kakashi had said. "It's you, Iruka. You're the guy I like." "Me?" I couldn't believe it. A guy like Kakashi.... liked me. "Yes, you. God, I knew I shouldn't have said anything. You can go if you'd like, I don't want you to feel like you have to stay." He turned to stare at the glass of water in front of him, avoiding looking at me. He slowly stood, moving the glass to the sink and dumping it out. His hands were bracing against the edge of the counter as he let his head hang down, eyes locked on the faucet. "Kakashi," I spoke gently, gaining his attention. He was now facing me. I stood and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug. I felt his arms lay on my shoulders, holding me even closer. Kakashi POV I was right. He does give the best hugs. They're warm and soft and he smells so good. "Does this mean you like me too? Or do you just feel bad?" My chin rested on the top of his head. "Of course it means I like you. You're a likeable guy," Iruka giggled shyly. "You're too nice to me, Iruka." As Iruka pulled away, I let my hand fall to his, intertwining our fingers. I began walking towards the couch again, letting myself fall onto it. Iruka came down with me, landing next to me. In one bold move, Iruka let himself scoot to sit on my lap, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, his head cuddling into my neck. "You comfy, there, Iruka?" I laughed. "Yes very much so," he giggled back. I reached up and grabbed one of his hands, bringing his fingers to the top of my mask. I guess I've wanted him to really see me since I liked him, I was just never sure how to tell him that. "Really?" he asked, his fingers slowly hooking into the fabric. "Really." I pulled his hand down, letting the mask go with it. "You're very handsome, Kakashi." Iruka complimented me. I blushed at the compliment, but I didn't have the mask to cover it this time. "Thank you, but you aren't bad yourself." "And I know you would never admit it, but you're very cute when you blush," he brought his hand up to the side of my face. "Iruka, can I say something that may sound stupid?" "Sure," he laughed. "I really want you to kiss me right now." Without another word, he leaned forward and allowed our lips to meet. Iruka's lips were even better than I could've imagined. They were soft and smooth. And the way they moved against my own was absolutely perfect. When he pulled away, I noticed his own blush had made an appearance. "I really wanted you to kiss me too," Iruka said quietly. "I'm glad, because I'm gonna want to do that a lot more now." He giggled. "Me too." He cuddled back into my neck and I let my arms wrap around him, holding him close. Despite the fact that we were still sitting up, the exhaustion from the mission made me fade into sleep, Iruka's gentle breathing lulling me there. I could get used to this when I come home from missions. Being in his arms made it all okay.

~fin~

My heart rly went UWU on this one didn't it? I don't even care, these two are the cutest ship and you guys can't convince me otherwise. Don't forget to do all the normal jazz. Like comment, blah blah blah. Well, love you guys! Until next chapter!! -Smutty-Chan

#kakairu #fluff #kakashi hatake #iruka umino #naruto #Kakairu fluff #fluffy

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vintagedolan · 4 years

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mixtape | track three

| masterlist | faceclaims | playlist |

Indiana was sure she’d never had a longer Monday in her life, and Tuesday wasn’t looking any better. Her lecture droned on and she did everything she could to stay engaged, from downing the rest of her water bottle to doodling on the side of her notes.

Just as her professor started to move into the brachial plexus, she saw a small message notification appear in the top right corner of her laptop screen. A text, from Grayson.

Wyd? :)

It took all her power not to scoff in the middle of the room. The fact that he’d actually sent her a ‘wyd’ was almost too much.

learning, what’s it to yah

She scrolled to catch up with her professor, trying to keep up.

I’m bored

You want a vanilla oatmilk latte later, right?

Or did I not remember that right

Triple texter, of course. She typed out a quick shhh, unless you can teach me about the brachial plexus I gotta pay attention. I’ll text you when I’m out and turned back to her notes, scribbling out the diagram that her professor was drawing on the board.

But she still smiled when she got a p sure you just made that up but okay :) from him.

Lecture sped up after that, her professor moving much too quickly through the nerves and innervations of muscles within the plexus that she could barely wrap her head around. She was going to have to review all of it again to even begin to fully understand. At least it wasn’t chemistry like it had been last semester - anatomy she could handle because at least it was interesting. Before she knew it she was closing her notebook and laptop, throwing them in her bag and heading out the door in a bid to get to the hospital faster.

Little did she know, Grayson was waiting in line at Jet’s already, having come to the city much earlier than he needed to, toe of his Air Force One tapping on the tile as his nerves ran wild. He caught his reflection in one of the windows and paused to double check himself, just like he had that afternoon in his mom’s hallway, looking in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. Ethan had caught him in the act, and he knew it wouldn’t slip past him.

“Alright, spill. You’re being sus.” Ethan’s words were garbled by the PB&J in his mouth, but it still made Grayson panic a bit.

“Am not.”

“Cut the shit Gray, you only wear belts when you’re trying to impress somebody and I highly doubt you’re trying to woo over the kids. What’s her name?”

“I hate you.”

“Interesting name.” That earned him a middle finger.

“Indiana.”

“Actual interesting name. She cute?”

“Very. And smart. And funny too. Good with kids.”

“And tick tick tick go the soulmate boxes. You gonna try to make a move?”

“We’ve talked one time bro. That’d be bold.”

“Yeah, and you’re you.You fall in love when somebody blinks at you right. Case made. Let me know when the wedding is.”

Grayson didn’t have a comeback for that, so he just huffed a bit and let out a “fuck off” before he turned to head for city an hour before he needed to.

“Next… Next.”

He pulled his head up, realizing the line had disappeared in front of him. He moved up to the counter, hoping he’d remembered her order right since she’d yet to answer him again.

“Can I do a large dark roast, and a large vanilla oatmilk latte please?”

Down the line, a man with an impressive beard and large gauges perked up as Grayson put his card into the reader.

“Wouldn’t happen to be for Indiana Cross would it?”

He wasn’t sure what the right answer was, so he just went with the truth. “Yeah, actually it is.”

Based on the way that the man squinted his eyes at him, Grayson realized it was apparently very much the wrong answer.

“And you are?” He asked.

“Grayson.”

“Grayson.” He repeated, obviously waiting for an elaboration.

“I uh… I volunteer with her at the hospital?”

Right answer. The man relaxed, going back to making coffee with a nod. He tried to run through the possibilities while he waited for the drinks. Brother? Probably not. Ex-boyfriend? Possibly.

“She’s a good egg, used to work here before school got to be too much. You’re lucky to have a friend like her,” he said after passing over the drinks.

Protective manager. Not what he expected, but he understood. He had a feeling it wasn’t just him who had gotten attached so quickly.

“Yeah, yeah I am for sure. Thanks, have a great day.”

“You too…” he trailed off, waiting. He didn’t know if he’d forgotten his name already or just didn’t want to admit he remembered it.

“Grayson.”

“Right. I’m Patrick. See you around.”

“Yeah man, see you.”

Grayson headed out the door, balancing one cup on top of the other so he could text her quickly.

You at the hosp yet?

no, I’m not at the ‘hosp’ haha I’m walking there now

You didn’t text me when you got out of class

I’m hurt

boo hoo

Lemme just

Throw this coffee away real quick

hey hey now those are fighting words

oh shit I never texted you about the coffee, but you were right, vanilla oatmilk latte

I’ll give you a pass this time since you were learning about the brachial whatever

You’re lucky im awesome and remembered

wow

the most awesome

love to see it

just wait outside of jets, I’ll be there in a minute

Okay :)

He did as she asked, moving out of the steady stream of people that were on the sidewalk to watch people who passed, waiting for her. Every time he saw a head of blonde hair he perked up, until finally he recognized her moving towards him. She was dressed more casually than on Sunday, with a baggy crewneck on with her jeans and Air Force Ones.

She noticed him a moment after he saw her, so by the time she laid eyes on him he was beaming, putting his phone away and moving towards her.

“A large? You spoil me,” she teased, taking the cup from him gratefully. It was delicious as always, but she was more focused on his outfit – a tight black long sleeve shirt tucked into a pair of nice maroon pants, a large belt buckle resting on his waist.

“We match,” he grinned, pointing a toe out to show off his shoes. It was about the only thing that matched – she felt frumpy next to him in her comfy clothes that she wore to class. Even her Air Forces were dingy compared to his, dull and dirty.

“Uh huh, right. I didn’t know that our first joint Buddies meeting was a fashion show, give a girl some warning next time, will yah?”

“Oh shut up, you look cute.”

Her eyebrows went up as she looked down at herself, then back at him. He threw her back the same look of disbelief.

“Did I stutter?” He asked, practically daring her to argue with him. She just blushed and shook her head, taking a drink of her coffee as they started towards Frazier. They walked shoulder to shoulder and Indiana was grateful – it was fractionally less common in the colder months, but she always got her fair share of cat calls on the streets. After getting to know him, she didn’t find Grayson even slightly intimidating anymore, but she still had the image of him on that bench, broad and serious, and she knew it was no coincidence that everyone fell silent with him beside her.

It was a new feeling, having to hold herself back. She’d never had the urge to wrap her arms around someone walking next to her, reach out and hold onto their arm, even just reach down to hold their hand. It made her giddy and skeptical at the same time as she tried to distract herself, watching the cars drive by, honking at each other.

“Where’d you go?” Grayson hummed, bumping her just barely and pulling her out of her head. Her heart swelled a bit hearing her signature phrase fall so easily from his lips, which seemed much pinker than she’d last remembered as he took a sip of his coffee and waited for her answer. A few moments later he quirked an eyebrow – a very well-manicured eyebrow. Did he get those waxed? She resisted the urge to reach up and smooth down her own that she knew were bushy and definitely not as nice as his.

“Indiana. You good?” He tried again,

“Hmm? Oh yeah, yeah I’m good, sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I was just checkin on you. Do we have a plan for this meeting or do you normally just go with the flow?”

“Depends on the mood she’s in. I’ve got some stuff in my bag – cards, my school stuff cause she likes to help me study sometimes. Other times she just likes to play 20 questions or hang out and talk. You’ll be the new shiny toy, so prepare for a bunch of questions. Especially about your teeth earrings.”

He balked as they got to the doors, following her quick steps into the lobby.

“I’m sorry my what?”

“It’s not everyday someone has diamonds in their teeth sir.”

“Okay but they aren’t teeth earrings, give me some fucking credit.”

“Definitely teeth earrings.”

“Jewels.”

“Teeth. Earrings. Oh my god, I’m gonna introduce you as teeth earring guy.” Her laughter filled the elevator as they stepped in.

“Oh god,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the side of the little box as it moved up to the second floor. Indiana gave her most mischievous grin when the doors opened, walking quickly through the halls. It took Grayson a minute to realize that she was trying to beat him to Bekah’s room and he sped up his steps, trying to keep it casual as he passed rooms of kids and families, walking as fast as he could without full on running down the hall. They didn’t see the nurses laughing at their antics, but they didn’t care. Indiana side stepped into Bekah’s room abruptly, so fast that Grayson almost knocked her over trying to stop behind her.

Bekah was up walking around in a hoodie and leggings, and when she turned she immediately pointed over Indiana’s shoulder.

“Teeth earring guy!”

They couldn’t help it – they both busted out laughing, Indiana grabbing onto his shoulder to keep herself from falling over. When they finally got it together he spoke up first.

“My name is actually Grayson, but you can call me teeth earring guy if you wanna.”

“I’m Bekah Newcomb. Mandatory intro spiel, I’m 15, stage 3 leukemia. My parents aren’t pieces of shit, they just work a lot so they’re never here. No siblings because why mess with perfection. Any questions?”

Indiana bit her tongue – she had forgotten about the spiel, forgotten that it was Bekah’s favorite way to test new people, make them uncomfortable. Her eyes flickered over to Grayson, but he had the biggest smile on his face.

“Only one, but it’s very important. You ready?”

“Hit me with it,” she said, anxiously waiting.

“Is cereal a soup?”

Indiana couldn’t have planned a better intro for the two of them – they bonded so quickly right there before her eyes, debating the constituting factors of soup, and it had her melting to see him interacting so easily with the girl who meant so much to her. Bekah didn’t even attempt to put up her usual front, just laughed and joked with him as if she’d known him for years. The hours flew by, games of war and BS passing the time as Bekah sat at the top of her bed and Indiana and Grayson sat at the end of it, knees touching as they resisted the urge to peek at each-others cards.

The only hiccup came when Bekah got her meds at 7, but she put on her best show for Grayson, managing to keep her stomach settled enough to avoid puking. It was the most fun visit either of them had had in a while, and Bekah fought her drowsiness until visiting hours were over at 8. Indiana had to be the voice of reason, starting the goodbyes before the nurses came to kick them out.

“Are you both coming back on Thursday?” Bekah called out as they headed for the door.

“Hell yeah we are. Want us to bring anything?” Grayson grinned.

Indiana liked the sound of us.

“Cereal, so we can test our theories.”

“You got it. See yah Thursday Beks.”

“See yah Thursday, Earrings.”

His laugh was so loud that the nurses at the desk peeked their heads around to see what was happening – but they were smiling up at the two of them as they signed out and started down the hallway they’d come up.

As soon as they cleared the ocean hallway, Grayson turned to her.

“Was that okay? Like was that good?” There was genuine concern in his voice, and Indiana had to bite back a laugh.

“Are you seriously asking?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am.”

“Grayson she loved it. She loved you. I haven’t seen her smile that big since she’s come in for this round of treatment. Were you worried about that?” She didn’t stop herself from reaching out and holding onto his shoulder, squeezing lightly as they stopped walking.

“A little,” he admitted, relaxing under her touch.

“You’re a natural, I told you that. I promise you did great, I wouldn’t bullshit you.”

He stopped walking for a minute, and there was an intensity in his gaze that had her stomach fluttering.

She didn’t know what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t for him to say “Can I take you to dinner?”

“Now?” Stupid answer.

“Well, it is dinner time. But if you aren’t hungry I could wait a while. Or if you don’t want to go, that’s totally okay, I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything just cause we’re doing this together and we share a buddy and-”

“I want to go to dinner,” she cut him off, and he could see the hesitation on her face.

“I sense a but coming…”

“But -”

His heart sank a bit - he’d fallen into the trap he always managed to get himself into, falling too quickly, making his move too fast. But it was natural to be next to her, to talk to her, to have her hand stay on his shoulder. He liked the feeling of her there, the sound of her laughter and the brightness of her smile, and he couldn’t quite hold himself back it seemed. It made the rejection he knew he was about to get hurt even worse.

“But, I have to study tonight,” she sighed, and there was a genuineness to it that had him breathing a bit easier. She actually seemed disappointed, and the hope he felt rose up again.

“Oh yeah, the biceps whatever thing, that shit sounded complicated.”

“The brachial plexus, but A for effort,” she teased. “No but seriously, I gotta get that shit down or I’m gonna forget everything she said about it today. But I really do wanna go to dinner, I’m not blowing you off.” She rushed through her reassurances, dropping her arm and starting to walk again, towards the stairs this time.

“I believe you. How about Thursday, after we hang with Beks?”

“Yeah, I can do Thursday!”

“Gang.” Fuck. He’d been doing pretty well at hiding all the slang he’d picked up in LA.

“Did you… what?”

“Nothing, pretend you didn’t hear that. Thursday sounds great. Oh, before I forget, can you bring some non-dairy milk with you when you come?”

She paused for a minute, looking up at him from a few stairs below like he’d grown another head.

“You want me to bring milk… non-dairy milk… to dinner.”

“No! No no, for the cereal! I just have a long drive and I don’t want it to get all gross and hot on the way, and since you walked I figure you live close by. I can venmo you for it.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can bring some, you don’t have to venmo me for it, no biggie.”

“Okay cool. Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t ask you to bring milk on a da- to dinner. Bring it to dinner. That would be… weird.” His cheeks burned hotter than he realized they could. The fact that he’d almost slipped and said date had embarrassment and panic coursing through every inch of his body, and he could already hear the way Ethan was going to laugh when he told him the story later.

Of course Indiana heard it, but the way he was blushing to his ears had her pretending she didn’t.

“Thursday it is then,” she grinned, opening the door of the stairwell and holding it until Grayson passed through. The massive windows of the lobby were painted indigo, washed out a bit by the city lights but dark nonetheless.

“Damn it’s dark,” he muttered. Even though it was beginning to get dark earlier now with autumn on the horizon, it was still much dimmer than he was used to.

“It’s supposed to storm the rest of the week, probably just the clouds,” she shrugged. She looked small for the first time to him, headed towards the doors.

“Can I drive you home? It’s really dark out.” The words came out before he could think them over - that seemed to be the effect she had on him.

“Oh, it’s okay! I only live like three blocks from here, by the time you get your car I’ll probably be home,” she reassured him with a smile.

“Can I walk you then? I don’t like the idea of you walking out there in the dark by yourself.”

She paused at the door, and he half expected her to turn and remind him that she was very much capable of walking herself. But she surprised him, as she always seemed to do.

“Yeah, yeah that would be really nice actually. If you don’t care.”

“No, I’d love to. You ready?”

She nodded and pushed the doors open, hair blowing back in the wind as she walked outside. The temperature had dropped significantly, the true sign of a storm coming through just as she’d suggested.

He took his spot beside her, shortening his strides so he didn’t stray too far from her, standing tall and broad. Indiana felt small next to him, but in a good way for once. It was even more comforting than earlier, and she took slower steps than she usually did, trying to draw it out as long as possible. She tried to convince herself it was because she wanted to procrastinate studying, didn’t want to have to tackle her notes, but in reality she knew it was because she didn’t want the night to end.

It was a comfortable kind of quiet, the bustle of the city streets creating the perfect background noise as they weaved down the sidewalks. Indiana felt like if anyone looked at them they’d be able to see the little bubble of nervous energy surrounding the two of them - it had her feeling like she was back in middle school, giddy because the cute boy looked at her for two seconds.

Much too quickly, her apartment building appeared, tall and imposing in the dark.

“This is me.”

“Damn, that really was a short walk.”

For once, she wished it had been longer.

“Thanks again for walking me.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem, anytime. Um… have a good night.” He could hear the awkwardness in his tone, felt like it was palpable in the city air.

“Goodnight Grayson. Drive safe.”

“Goodnight Indiana. Sleep safe.”

That earned him his new favorite smile, but only for a moment before she disappeared into the lobby.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

“Bro, will you fucking focus?”

There were few things that annoyed Grayson more than his brother taking too long to finish his reps on the equipment, but that day he’d become his own pet peeve. In his head, distracted, constantly checking his phone - and Ethan was beyond annoyed.

“Alright, out with it. The fuck is goin on in there?” Ethan smacked Grayson’s head lightly, concern starting to overpower the annoyance.

“It’s nothing, let’s just finish this shit before it rains again,” he huffed, moving to the single pull up bar that he’d built last year and starting his reps. The sky was a dreary gray, the cold of autumn starting to come in and clinging to everything it touched.

It wasn’t nothing. Actually, it was much much more than that, and Ethan knew it too, but he didn’t pry. Yet. He did his best to keep his brother focused for the rest of their Wednesday work out, encouraging him to get more reps, to push a bit harder. It didn’t seem to clear his head at all, and Ethan held his tongue for a few more hours, waited until they were both showered, in fresh clothes and in the kitchen making lunch for him to finally ask again.

“Is it the girl? Indiana?”

Grayson didn’t answer, but the look that he threw Ethan from his spot in front of the stove told him enough.

“What’d she say? Lemme see.”

He passed his phone over, moving back to stir soup he was making as Ethan read the message. Grayson remembered exactly what it said, even if his twin didn’t mumble it out as he read.

“Hey, about dinner tomorrow. Turns out my sister and brother in law are moving out of my place (finally) because Charlie got a new photography deal and I promised I would help them move :( but we could do dinner on Saturday night if that works for you still? If not it’s okay. What’s wrong with that?” Ethan asked.

“She doesn’t wanna have dinner,” Grayson muttered, watching the soup spin in the pot as he stirred.

“That is so not what that means. Is this seriously what you’ve been pouting about all morning?” Ethan had to bite back his laugh. He hadn’t seen his brother this in his head about something in a while, and he didn’t want to make him feel stupid for being worried. “If she didn’t want to have dinner, she wouldn’t have asked about Saturday.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even met her.”

“Cause I’ve had a girlfriend for two years. You just learn what they mean in their texts even if they don’t say it.”

The last thing Grayson needed in that moment was a reminder that his brother was in a very loving relationship, but he let it slide. Eden had come into their lives a few years back, a fireball of take-no-shit and feminine power unlike either of them had ever seen. It was a learning curve, and Ethan was determined to ace the test. Grayson was glad that he had - she’d become a sister to him, and she brought fun and laughter to their life out in California.

“Call Eden, see what she thinks,” Grayson said, scooping soup out into bowls for the two of them. Ethan did as he asked, pulling up facetime and letting it ring through until she appeared on the screen, wide smile bright against her tanned skin, California sun bright in the background.

“Hey baby! What’s up?”

“Grayson’s having girl problems.”

“Oooo I love girl problems, hand him over,” she teased, still beaming when Ethan passed over his phone.

“Alright hit me with it, what’s the tea?”

Grayson tried to give her the short version of how he and Indiana had met, but he found himself elaborating with each detail that he remembered, from every word of the text down to the way she said goodbye the last time he’d seen her, only the night before. It felt like longer than that.

Eden was quiet for a moment after he finally finished the story, but by her coy smile he knew she was just trying to figure out how to word everything correctly.

“Okay, so first off, just to clear things up, she’s not blowing you off.”

He wanted to believe her, desperately, but the doubt must have still been obvious on his face, because she rolled her eyes before she launched into her explanation.

“She texted you today instead of tomorrow, which probably means as soon as she found out she told you. That’s a good sign. She’s nervous too, that’s why she said ‘if not it’s okay’, cause she’s trying to give you an out if you want it.”

He very much didn’t want an out. He actually wanted an in.

“The fact that she reached out at all shows that she cares, and she’s trying to set up another time which definitely means she’s interested. Most girls would just wait to see if you would set up another one, that’s what I would have done. Tested to see if you were invested. But if she’s willing to do it, that means she must be pretty sure of you. Or totally oblivious to the fact that you like her. Either way, you’re in good shape.”

“Who said I like her?” He muttered, getting a barking laugh out of both members of his audience.

He let them fall into conversation without him, the quick catch up of their day that they’d been doing lately since they were on opposite sides of the country. It was hard for Ethan, but he managed it well, with plenty of sappy texts and nightly facetimes that would have Grayson gagging but secretly wishing he had someone to talk to like that.

He wondered what Indiana was like on facetime while he ate his soup. He wondered what her favorite color was, why she took oatmilk in her coffee instead of regular, what her class schedule was. Wondered what time she woke up on the mornings when she could sleep in, what she’d want to do on a real date, what her room looked like. He never realized how much mental space he had for someone other than himself or Ethan, and he found himself obsessing the smallest things, trying to ignore the butterflies it brought to his stomach.

Ethan didn’t help once he finished his call and started devouring his luke-warm bowl of veggie soup.

“Bro you’re in deep, I can tell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get this attached this quick before.”

“There’s just something about her dude. It’s scaring me a little honestly. I’ve never felt like this about anybody, and I’ve literally only seen her twice. I mean, I barely even know her, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Is that weird?”

Ethan thought of about twenty comebacks that he could have used, but he bit them back. He could feel his twin’s anxiety, and he wasn’t about to add to it.

“Nah man. It’s not weird. It’s intense, but it’s not weird. And hey, if she ends up being the one someday it’ll make a cute story. You hear all sorts of people say they fell in love the first time they saw their person, who says that couldn’t be you, yah know? But hey, I gotta meet her before you go proposing or some shit.” He bumped his shoulder with a smile, turning back to his bowl of soup so Grayson didn’t feel like he had to respond right away.

He thought on it for a minute, trying to process everything his brother had just laid out on the table. And then he pulled his phone out, clicked on his new favorite thread to check, and typed out his reply.

Saturday date it is

See you tomorrow :)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Indiana Cross was never late. In fact, she was usually a minimum 10 of minutes early. But one too many outfits changes had slowed her down and she was cutting it too close for comfort - so close that when she looked out and saw the rain had started up again, she contemplated just running out into it and getting drenched instead of trying to make it back upstairs to get her umbrella.

She peered out into the street through the lobby doors, trying to decide if the drops would be enough to ruin her outfit, when something caught her eye.

A hand, waving quite cutely at her through the glass.

Grayson was outside, massive black umbrella over his head and a wide smile on his face as he walked up to the doors, waiting for her. He hadn’t said anything about coming to pick her up, but her heart fluttered at the sight of him anyways - she’d seen him just a few days ago, on Thursday, where they’d sat on Bekah’s bed again and ate cereal and laughed and joked. But it felt like it had been forever, and with the added stress of moving Charlie and Devin out, and the hard goodbye that she didn’t want to admit was hard, she hadn’t really relaxed since she’d last seen him.

He made sure there wasn’t a gap between the awning and his umbrella so she could duck under it without getting wet. As soon as she was under she made her move, if you could even call it that, and wrapped her hands around his bicep, trying not to gawk at how big it was. Instead, she looked up at him and scrunched her nose.

“Hi.”

“Hi there,” he beamed, and she could see the excitement in every single one of his features. “Figured I could walk you. You ready?”

She nodded, holding on to him as they started to walk down the sidewalks. His slow Jersey pace mixed with her short legs and quick New Yorker steps kept them perfectly in sync as they dodged puddles and soaked up the feeling of being together again.

The conversation flowed as easily as ever, Grayson asking her how moving Charlie out went, if she was sad to have her sister so far away. They talked about Cameron going to school in South Carolina, and how he and Ethan couldn’t spend more than a week apart without going crazy. She talked about school, the assignments she had lined up for the week, the exam she had already started studying for even though it was next Friday. Every time they got to a puddle that was too big for both of them to walk around he guided her to the dry part, walking lightly through the water so he didn’t splash her.

They got to the hospital much too quickly, and she let go of his arm reluctantly so he could pull the umbrella down and shake off the excess water before they made it in. Grayson led the way up the stairs and onto the unit, waving at the kids he saw, giving Andre a high five as he passed and asking the nurses how their shift was going. Indiana couldn’t help but notice the way the younger nurses - actually, all the nurses, seemed to be watching his every move, blushing and smiling at him as he passed.

She fought the urge to reach out and hold his hand, walking just a bit closer to him so their arms brushed against each other as they moved. It sent electricity through every nerve ending on her body, and she got so caught up in it that she almost forgot to stop him before they made it to Bekah’s room.

“Hey, one thing. I know we’re going on a date later, but let’s not have any… like us stuff, while we’re here. I don’t want Bekah to feel like a third wheel or anything, cause we’re here for her. Deal?”

“Deal.” There was a prideful look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite place, but she didn’t have time to analyze it before she stepped into the room.

Bekah was in her bed, curled up under the blankets on her side. Her head was wrapped in a light blue scarf - something her mom had brought her a few days prior, sweatshirts pulled down over her hands as she shivered.

Grayson’s face fell immediately, and he froze at his spot by the curtain. She looked sick, actually sick, for the first time, and it brought on a wave of memories and emotion that he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Indiana didn’t blink.

“Hey you. How are you feeling?” Her tone was soft, soothing as she moved to her bedside and laid a hand on Bekah’s shoulder, starting to rub against her cold skin.

“S’ cold,” Bekah mumbled, burrowing down further, so far that Indiana could only see her brown eyes and the dark skin of her forehead.

“Want me to go see if I can get you another blanket?”

She nodded weakly, resting her head back on the pillow as Indiana stood up and moved over to Grayson.

“You okay in here by yourself for a minute?”

Grayson nodded, half to answer and half to convince himself. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before she disappeared out the door. He stood there in silence for a moment, hands shoved in his pockets, unsure of what to do.

Bekah peaked her head out just enough for her mouth to be visible before she spoke.

“I’m not contagious, Earrings, you can come over here.”

The tension in his shoulders released and he walked over, sitting down as gently as he could on the edge of the bed.

“You’re weird,” Bekah said, eyes still closed. He panicked a bit, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Yeah? Why am I weird.”

“You don’t like being around sick people, but you’re volunteering at a kids hospital. Weird.”

“I don’t think anyone likes seeing people sick,” he murmured, trying to word everything very carefully.

“Indiana likes being around sick people because she likes to help. I think you like to help too but it makes you uncomfortable.”

There was no malice in her tone, but it still made him let out a dry laugh.

“You’re an observant one, aren’t you.”

“Not much else for me to do in here but watch people. But seriously, why’d you sign up to make yourself uncomfortable? Did someone tell you to?”

“Yeah, kinda. Someone told me if I could help that I should.”

“Your mom?”

“My dad actually,” he corrected quietly, toying with his fingers. Anytime he said his name out loud, no matter the form it took - dad, father, Sean - it was like he could feel it in his heart, a little tug on the original wound, a finger picking at a scab that wasn’t quite formed yet.

“I’ll have to thank him for that some time. I like having you around, no matter how awkward you are.”

“Well thanks Beks.”

He was saved from his devolving thoughts by a very excited Indiana coming back into the room with not one, but three blankets stacked in her arms.

“I declare it movie night,” she said, passing both of them their own blanket and rummaging for a remote, pulling up Emperor's New Groove before settling down into a chair on the other side of the bed. Grayson pulled one up so he could sit back, and without the distraction of conversation Bekah was out within the first 15 minutes, breaths deep despite the winces that she couldn’t hide. Indiana just ran a comforting hand over her arm until she lulled down further, tired muscles finally relaxing.

“She’s gonna be out the rest of the night, we might as well let her rest. You ready to go?” She asked after another twenty minutes, a bit of excitement returning to her eyes.

He nodded, moving to fix Bekah’s blanket over top of her one last time before he clicked the TV off and left her to sleep.

As soon as they signed out, he couldn’t hold back his questions.

“Is she getting worse? It seems like she’s getting worse.”

“Not necessarily. Chemo is weird like that sometimes, sometimes she’ll have good days with her meds, sometimes she’ll have bad ones. It’s just her body trying to fight for and against her at the same time. Exhausting, I would imagine. But she’s okay.”

“She doesn’t seem okay,” he said, looking back down the hallway before they went through the first set of doors.

“Hey.” He turned back to her, noted for a moment that her eyes were the same color as the painted jellyfish on the wall behind her. It grounded him somehow. “Don’t carry all this out here with you, it’ll wear you down. She’s in good hands, she’s sleeping, she’s safe. They’re doing everything they can for her, you’ve gotta trust in that.”

He knew that sometimes it didn’t matter how much they did, but he kept that to himself.

“You want me to compartmentalize.”

“A little bit, yes. It’s the only way you can survive something like this, trust me.”

He did. And he knew she was right. So he closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, let himself let go for a moment and breathe a bit easier. Without a hesitation, he reached a hand out for hers as soon as he opened his eyes, linking his fingers with hers.

“Okay. Let’s go on a date then.”

“Let’s go on a date,” she repeated, squeezing her tiny hand against his as they started down the hallway again.

He’d hatched a whole plan, ran the whole thing by both Ethan and Eden. They were going to get dinner at a little vegan food truck that he had made sure would be close by, walk the High Line for the last hour that it was open, and finish off with a late night coffee from Jets.

“Do I get to know the details of this date?” She asked while he opened the umbrella up outside and offered him her arm, almost as if she knew he was running through the itinerary in his head for the entire walk.

“Nope, you’re just along for the ride.” He grinned, trying to keep his confidence up as he started walking down the sidewalk.

For the first block, everything was fine. The rain picked up slightly, but nothing too bad, and it only made her hold onto him a bit tighter, leaning into him to avoid getting wet. He reveled in the feeling, holding himself back from leaning over and kissing her forehead.

The second block, things got a bit worse. The wind began to howl, thunder booming so loud above them that they both jumped. It seemed to shake the buildings around them a bit, and Grayson bit his lip, scrambling to think of what they would do if it got worse.

By the third block, all hell broke loose. The rain was coming down in sideways sheets, soaking their shoes and pants as Grayson tried to angle the umbrella and keep Indiana dry. It worked for approximately two seconds before the wind inverted the umbrella, leaving them both entirely exposed.

“Sorry, fuck, sorry!” He yelled over the roar of the rain, trying desperately to fix it as their shirts became heavy and wet. Their hair stuck to their foreheads, and when he pushed his back he saw that Indiana was laughing, laughing so hard that she leaned back slightly, clutching her stomach.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She grabbed his hand, dragging him along as they ran through the downpour. He followed her blindly, holding tight to her slippery hand as she weaved them through umbrellas and past people huddled under stoops.

When she pulled him into the lobby of her apartment building they were both laughing, breathless and giddy, so loud that a few people turned to look at them.

They didn’t notice.

“Your teeth are chattering,” Grayson laughed, reaching out to rest a hand on her quivering cheek. He was cold too, but he didn’t care. He hoped the blush he got out of her warmed her up a bit. “Not to invite myself up or anything, but do you care if I get dried off?”

She rolled her eyes at him, just taking his hand and leading him over to the elevator.

Unfortunately, a perfectly dry woman in her 40’s stepped on with them, and all it took was the sound of the water dripping off their clothes onto the tile for them to both break into a fit of giggles, Grayson’s mouth going wide in a silent cackle that had Indiana having to cover her own to keep from being too loud. She felt like a middle schooler getting scolded in the back of class until they made it to her floor, stepping past the woman with a muttered ‘sorry’ and wide smiles. They stared at each other until the doors closed, and then they were laughing again, holding onto each other’s shoulders as they tried to make it down the hallway and breathe at the same time.

Grayson was wiping tears by the time they got to her door, still giggling to himself as he started to shiver, his clothes getting colder by the minute. He took his shoes off outside the door, not wanting to track even more water inside as she opened the door

Her apartment was a bit warmer than the hallway, a welcoming and simple space with a small kitchen to the left and a cozy living room in front of him. Without realizing that he had even done it consciously, he had imagined her in a place just like this, with the big windows on the other side of the room covered in rain.

“Nice place,” he murmured.

“It’s no house, but it’s nice enough,” she teased. “Let me see if Devin left anything here that you can wear, hold on.”

She disappeared into a room on the right and he made his way into the living room, showing himself around. The picture frames on the top shelf caught his eye for a moment, and he smiled at how cute she looked as a baby, how beautiful she looked in her dress with her sister beside her. The woman holding her hands in the last one looked just like her, and he was about to ask when he felt Indiana behind him.

“That’s my mom. Nicole.”

“She seems like a great mom.”

“Yeah, she was.”

Grayson froze. Fuck.

“Shit, Indy, I’m sorry I-”

She put a finger to his lips. “It’s okay. But let’s not talk about it tonight, yeah?”

He nodded, trying to swallow down his guilt. He knew what it felt like to have that sprung on you without a warning, and he wished he could pull the words back out of the air, back out of her mind.

“Try these.” She passed him a pair of pajama pants. “I’m still looking for a shirt, I might have something that’s big enough for you. There’s a bathroom in my room if you wanna change in there.”

“I can just go shirtless for a while, it’s no big deal,” he reassured her. Her eyes went wide for a moment, and he saw her swallow.

“Okay. I’m gonna change now.”

“Okay. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

They stared at each other for a minute before Indiana finally moved, going into her room to start rummaging through her own clothes. She changed faster than she ever had, throwing on a pair of leggings and a crewneck with some comfy fuzzy socks before she was back in the living room.

“All yours. Um, do you want anything specific for dinner? I haven’t gone to the store in a while, and I would feel bad making somebody deliver in this weather,” she mumbled.

“Well, I’m vegan, but don’t worry if you don’t have anything, I can make it till I get home.”

In all honesty, he was starving, but he wasn’t about to end the date early because of a lack of plant based meal choices.

“I’ll see what I have, go change so I can put your clothes in the dryer with mine.”

He did as she asked, moving into her room. It was similar to the living room - white bedding, simplistic artwork in wooden frames on the walls. But above her bed were an assortment of vinyls, and he actually gasped when he saw the one in the middle.

“You listen to Cudi?!” He yelled, running back into the living room. Indiana was in the kitchen with a cucumber in her hands, but he made her jump so hard that she almost dropped it.

“Yeah, do you?”

“I fucking love Cudi dude, he’s the best artist of all time. I can’t believe you listen to him too.”

“Do I not give off Cudi vibes,” she laughed, putting the words in air quotes.

“No, you definitely do not.”

“What vibes do I give off then? Or do I not wanna know.”

“You don’t wanna know,” he grinned, flinching when she raised the cucumber like she was going to throw it.

“Go change Gray.”

He went back in, headed to her bathroom. It was much darker than the rest of the house, with a dark gray shower curtain adorned with wildflowers. He locked the door and stripped down quickly - his underwear were still damp, but he wasn’t about to go commando, especially if he was gonna risk having to hide a boner later. He had no idea how far the night was going to go, but he wanted to be ready for anything.

Standing there in the mirror in his boxers, he contemplated it for a minute, and then pulled a very 2016 Grayson move of dropping to the floor and doing a quick set of push ups so that his bare arms were a bit more swollen than they had been.

He pulled the pants on, groaning a bit at how long they were, and how tight they clung to his ass. Worried that he’d spent too long in the bathroom he picked up his wet clothes and headed back to the living room with the ends of his pants rolled up three times so he didn’t trip on them.

“You didn’t tell me Devin was a fucking giant dude! How tall is that mans?”

“He’s 6’5”,” Indiana laughed from somewhere he couldn’t see her, popping up with a loaf of bread and putting it on the counter. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him, so much tanned skin stretched over thick bands of muscle that it had her mouth dry. She swallowed again before she spoke. “Just sit those down, I can put them in the dryer.” “I can do it, are yours already in there?”

“Yeah, it’s over there.” She smiled and pointed to the doors in the hallway. He put them in and turned it on before he finally made it to the kitchen and saw the assortment on the counter. But she wasn’t looking at the food anymore - her eyes were all for him, and he felt himself fall nervous under her gaze again.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just cute.”

“Oh yeah, these pants are what do it for you huh?” He gave her a little spin just to make her laugh.

“Did I stutter?” She tilted her head to the side just barely, and it took all his self control not to lean in and kiss her right then. Instead, he just shook the thought from his head and stood close enough to where her shoulder was against his arm.

“What’re we workin’ with?”

“Well. I’ve got apples, a few grapes, jelly, some lettuce, bread, peanut butter, a sweet potato and crackers. Sorry.” She was sheepish, and he just shook his head at her with a frown.

“Nothing to be sorry for. You trust my PB&J making abilities?”

“That depends entirely on if you cut it into triangles or squares.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s triangles all day,” he scoffed, getting a laugh out of her that had him floating.

“Then yes, I approve. Do you care if I study while you make them? I just have a few things to go over.”

“Do whatever you gotta do,” he reassured her, moving to open the bread while she went back to her backpack. She was back quickly, with a stack of flashcards in her hands.

“Here,” he cleared her a spot on the counter next to where he was working. “Sit up here, teach me some stuff.”

“It’s just vocab stuff, nothing interesting.”

“Just say it outloud, maybe I’ll learn something.”

And so she did, laughing at the way his brows would furrow and the incredulous look he’d give her when it was a particularly long word. He took his time on the sandwiches, moving to cut up two apples and split the rest of the grapes between the two plates that he found after looking through the cabinets.

He cleared his throat and held out the plate on the palm of his hand. “Bon appetit madam.”

“Why thank you,” she giggled, sitting her cards down and taking it from him gratefully. She stayed perched on the counter and he leaned back against the fridge, taking his own plate in his hands. She complimented the food as she ate, wiggling slightly in the cutest way. Finally, she spoke up.

“Since we’re here, do I get to know what the actual date plan was?”

“Nah, I’m saving that shit for the future,” he smiled, taking the last bite of his sandwich. Even he had to admit it was good despite the slightly stale bread.

“Oh the future huh?”

“Yeah. Like next week.”

“I’ll pencil you into my planner then,” she grinned, tossing a few grapes into her mouth.

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcastic or not.”

“It’s not. Writing everything down keeps me sane I think.”

“Hey, organization is sexy,” he laughed, biting down on an apple slice.

“Good to know.” Her words were a bit muddled around the bite she had in her mouth, and Grayson put his empty plate aside, content to sit and watch her finish her meal. It was so easy to be around her, and he didn’t second guess anything he did or said - he hadn’t realized until her how much he altered himself around everyone he met.

“10 outta 10 PB&J, I’m impressed,” she smiled at him, moving her plate to the side after a moment. He couldn’t help but notice the tiny bit of jelly clinging to her cheek, purple and sticky against her skin.

“You’ve got a little - here,” he stepped up to her, reaching a hand out and running his thumb over it to get it off. But he didn’t let go - not when she looked up at him with those bright blue eyes, just like the jellyfish on the walls, and then he watched her look at his lips once before he leaned in.

She tasted sweet, lips soft against his. They were both hesitant, not sure of how far to take it. Short and sweet, they separated and looked at each other. He felt like he could float away when she brought a hand up to his hair and pulled him back in for another. He moved a hand to the counter for leverage, leaning into her as she smiled against him.

“You taste like apples,” she whispered, and then they were both laughing like they had been all night, cheeks and stomachs sore in the best way.

“C’mon you, what do you wanna do with the rest of our date night?”

“We could finish Emperor’s New Groove?” She poised.

He moved his hands to her waist, pulling her off the counter as she squealed, sitting her on her feet and taking her hand, headed to the living room. Ten minutes later and he was leaned back on the couch, feet up on the coffee table so she could curl up against his bare chest under the blanket while she scrolled through the film, trying to find where they left off.

He hoped that she’d undershoot it - anything to keep them right there, in each other's arms; bliss, as the storm raged on outside.

#SHES HERE #I.... kinda love this chapter #mixtape #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins fanfic #PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

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daraanna · 5 years

Text

Because she deserved it, aka alternative version of episode 112

Rate: T, there are some sugestive sentence, but I think It isn’t something more mature that we get in manga but still here is the warning.

...................................................................................

"Do you know why we chose you?" Shikamaru asked.

“Because I have the skills necessary for Chunin: leadership skills, good judgment of the situation and the ability to make decisions. Is that correct?” Shikadai replied looking at his father.

"That's not the full answer," sighed Nara.

"Because you think I'm ready to take responsibility, for the lives of the people I will lead," Sarada added, looking ahead.

“You have a trait necessary for chunin. You care about your teammates” finished the Hokage adviser looking at both genin standing in front of him.

"Do you accept promotion?" Naruto asked, picking up chunin vests.

They both stood in silence for a while.

"Hai!" Shikadai finally replied, while the young Uchiha was still looking at Hokage clearly thoughtful.

Some time passed before she finally answered yes.

...................................... They both left the Hokage office silently looking at the vest-symbol of their promotion.

"I think I should congratulate you," Shikadai finally broke the silence.

"Thanks," she said, folding her clothes and putting them in her bag. "Same for you, you really deserved it."

The two of them make fist bump started their own way.

Black-haired girl didn't take long to get home.

"Tadaima," she said, taking off her shoes. Moments later her mother came to greet her.

"How is meeting in Hokage office?" She asked with a smile indicating that she already knew the answer.

Sarada sighed and took her vest out of the bag.

"Congratulations!" Replied the pink-haired girl hugging her tightly, to which the young Uchiha replied with a smile. Then she noticed that her father was also standing in the corridor. Sasuke looked at her clearly thoughtful. It made her uncertain.

"Aren't you happy?" She asked with a bit of bitterness. "You were in the seventh office today, so you know, and despite it...

"I'm not angry," he replied. "More worried ..."

She couldn’t help to release of the short "Tch".

“You're growing up, and I've missed enough already. In addition, the duties of chunin are a great responsibility. I'm worried, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm proud of you.”

Sarada felt she was blushing. The fact that her mother was watching the scene with a radiant smile definitely didn't help. Her dad came over and patted her head.

“I really would like to say ‘that’s my girl’, but in this case you definitely follow in the footsteps of Sakura.”

"Hn?" She asked surprised.

"Well, because you see honey, your dad is still a genin," the green-eyed sigh.

"Nani?" Sarada was in complete shock now.

“What means that you were promoted to his superior”added Mrs. Uchiha unable to stop the giggle.

"Tch" Sasuke replied returning to the living room.

Black-haired girl couldn't stop giggling seeing dad's reaction.

"Now try on your vest!" The pink-haired woman said, clapping her hands.

Slightly embarrassed, young Uchiha put on her chunin outfit. Her mother couldn't help her tears.

"Well and where did I put the camera," she sighed, wiping her eyes. Moments later, father and daughter were alone in the living room.

“Hn. You look just like Sakura.“ said the elder Uchiha.

"Do you think so?" She asked surprised, looking at the large mirror hanging on the wall.

"Actually, where is mum's vest I have never seen her in it."

"Huh finding her would be challenge" the pink-haired said. Her parents exchanged a look.

-Aa.

Sarada shrugged. Sometimes it was difficult to understand her parents.

.................................................. It was a little past midnight when both of them were in bed. Sarada went to sleep an hour earlier. Sakura was sitting next to him reading a medical scroll. Sasuke lay on his back relaxed after the first real bath in weeks. However, he still couldn't get over his anxiety.

"Light bothers you?" The pink-haired woman asked, tearing herself away from reading.

"No," he replied, "but you should go to bed, tomorrow we get up earlier."

"Yeah, I think you're right," she sighed, looking at her watch and finishing the last sentence. She rolled up the scroll and, putting it on the bedside table, she turned off the lamp. Moments later she lay on her side facing him. Despite the darkness, he could clearly see her face. She looked thoughtful.

"What happened?" She finally asked, reaching out to him.

"Nothing," he said, looking into her eyes.

"I can see ..." she sighed, putting her hand on his cheek.

He hesitated for a moment. It was hard to describe what he feels.

"I ... When ... When I was at Sarada’s age..." he began. He felt his wife gently stroke his face with her thumb.

"That... Sarada has no reason to ..." she continued, brushing strands of hair off his face.

“I know. Just sometimes ... Sometimes Sarada reminds me of me and I'm worried. Sometimes she reminds me of Itachi and it scares me ...

Sakura said nothing.

“I'm afraid that someone will try to use her like the village used him, or that because of my past she ...”

“Times have changed, Naruto would not let ...”

“I know, but regardless of that there is still a part of me that is still terrified that I will lose you. That I won't be able to save my family again.”

She pulled him closer, embracing him in the waist, making calming circles on his back. She heard it from him many times before. After all these years, the trauma he gets during his childhood was still alive in him. And she could do nothing to take this suffering from him.

"Do you need something to calm down?" She asked quietly.

“No. Just some time ...” he replied embracing her and cuddling between her neck and shoulder.

"I'm worried too ..." she began to talk gently massaging the skin of his head with the other hand. "When you're out on the mission. During this action with Shin I was terrified that something would happen to Sarada When she went on her first mission, I didn't sleep two nights. But ... I know you will always come back to me. After all, you and Naruto are the best shinobi in history ... I know you will come back to me, no matter how long it takes ...

"Sakura," he interrupted, kissing her temple.

"I mean, we're also strong enough to defend ourselves," she finished, closing her eyes, "And Sarada ... She develops every day, has the potential to surpass both of us..."

“Hn. I know, ” he replied, calming down. He looked at his wife, already sleepy “Good night ...”

He got a semi-conscious gibberish in response. He couldn't help smiling. Moments later he fell asleep calm about the future.

................................................ Sarada was sitting in the kitchen looking at bowl of rice and egg. At night it was difficult for her to fall asleep, so when the watch at her bed showed 6, she decided to get up. She slept maybe a total of 3 hours all night? Irritated by this fact, she decided to do something productive. She started making breakfast for the whole family, but she realized that she really had no appetite. However, she could not go hungry on the mission, so she tried to eat rice at least.

"Oh, Sarada, are you up already?", She heard her mother's voice. The pink-haired was wearing short pyjama pants and her father's old T-shirt, her hair was wrapped in a towel. If black-haired thoughts were not busy with something else, she would probably pay attention to her unusual outfit.

"Breakfast looks delicious, but you didn't have to get up so early ..." continued her mother.

"Hn," the black-haired girl replied without taking her eyes from her food. For a while the kitchen was completely silent, broken only by the sounds of applied food.

“Mom ...” young Uchiha began uncertainly. Sakura looked at her daughter.

"Something happened?" She asked worriedly.

Sarada didn't answer for a moment, but finally sighed and spoke.

“I'm afraid ... I am afraid what will happen when the missions fail ... Because, finally such a mission will come ...” she felt stupid, she was telling the obvious. However, the fact that the can mission collapse because of her and the consequences associated with it did not give her peace... “Human life will depend on my decisions...”

She felt a touch on her head. Her mother sat down opposite her and gently patted her.

"Being a chunin is a huge responsibility," the pink-haired woman began, grasping her hand in both hands. "But you must remember that a leader can't do anything without a team. When making decisions, you must care for the good of your comrades, but also take into account their opinion. Even if you command mission, it does not mean that you are alone, neither in the joy of the success, nor in the responsibility for the defeat ... you can’t prepare for it, and guilt can sometimes lead you to the edge of madness, but even in this you must remember that you are not alone. You have me, papa, friends and sometimes when we are not able to do anything we have to rely on others ...

"But doesn't that mean you're weak?" Black-eye asked, squeezing her mother's hand.

“Some say so ... However, relying only on yourself easily lead to tragedy. Also, there will come a time when someone will need you in the same way and the real strength is then being with them” she finished smiling.

Although it was difficult for her to completely understand the meaning of the pink-haired words, Sarada felt better.

“Sakura have you seen my ...- at that moment her dad came into the kitchen. The head of the Uchiha clan was clothed only in trousers, his hair was wet and he clearly did not expect to see his daughter here. The younger, also surprised by this turn of events, looked at Dad at her mother and finally reached one conclusion.

"Kami ... You were in the shower ... At the same time!" She exclaimed finally.

Her mother face became pinker than her hair, while Sasuke looked like his operating system had crashed. He had never been in such an embarrassing situation in his life.

"That’s dirty" finished the youngest evacuating from the kitchen with her food.

..............................................

She was first at their team's place of meeting. It took some time for another person to appear. To her surprise, it was Boruto, who only nodded at her and took his usual place. Moments later, Mitsuki appeared, who greeted them with his specific smile. But instead of taking a seat next to his "sun", Orochomaru's son turned to her.

“Congrats on promotion to chunin.”

Hearing the words of a friend, Boruto jumped off the sculpture.

"I thought Shikadai was promoted ..." He replied looking at her with strange expression.

"Two people have been promoted this year," she replied.

“Oh.” that was Uzumaki's only answer. There was silence again, uninterrupted, until Master Konohamaru arrived. He also congratulated her on her promotion, and then presented them a mission plan. It was a simple escort, but the factory producing canvases that they were supposed to protect was almost on the border with the land of the wind. In addition, there was no railways which lead to it, so there was a long way to go. As they traversed the forests surrounding the village there was a strange silence for their group. It took a moment for her to realize that this was due to the fact that normally Boruto started all conversations or provoked quarrels. Now the boy was travelled without speaking. In general, his behavior was strange, as if he avoided her. Despite this, she could feel his eyes on her back all the time, but he looked elsewhere as soon as she turned away to look at him. Finally, upset by the whole situation, she decided to stop. Because of which the blond bumped into her almost knocking them to the ground.

"Oi! Sarada, what are you doing!" He asked, jumping away from her.

"What's wrong with you?" The black-haired girl sighed.

“With me? You stop suddenly for no reason!”

“I'm not talking about it! You act like you have a constipation . What are you mad at me for !?”

Konohamaru-sensei also stopped to separate the arguing companions. But Mitsuki got in his way.

"If they don't calm down we won't gonna make it," the snake boy sighed, secretly curiously watching his friends arguing.

"Maybe you are right," said jounin.

The blond for a moment looked at Uchiha defiantly, then sighed a moment later.

"I'm not mad at you," he muttered, looking sideways.

"So what's the matter?" she asked, approaching him. The boy was silent for a moment with his lips lined up in a narrow line.

"You always have to be better?" He finally said. Sarada looked at him in shock. Is it possible he was just jealous. He didn't even want to take part in the exam at first. Sharanoo!

“I mean ... Uh ..” continued blue-eyed. The owner of the Sharingan sighed and gently poked him with her arm. The boy blinked in surprise and looked at her.

"The next exam is in half a year, if you don't come up with some stupid idea and you won’t cheat again you will pass" she said, looking into his eyes.

"Where is this certainty came from?" He asked, all the time keeping eye contact.

“Isn’t it obvious? “ Uchiha replied smiling. “ I know what my rival is capable of.”

Seeing her smile young Uzumaki felt strange heat in the chest, and her words only intensified this effect. Suddenly he realized how close they were at this moment and he felt slight dizziness. However, he couldn't take his eyes off his friend.

"Umm ... rivalry ?" Mitsuki broke the silence. "That's not how I would describe your relationship. Chõ-Chõ says you have a typical Love-Hate Tsundere relationship. I still think you would be a great copule ...”

The faces of both of them turned red.

"No way!", They answered practically simultaneously. Blond awakened from a trance decided to explain to the snake-like colleague that he is wrong. Fortunately, there were no fight and their journey continued. This time Sarada was at the back of the group. She didn't know why, but after Mitsuki's words, she felt nervous and at the same time excited? It was really strange, considering that she was afraid to think about what conclusions her friend and teammate could reach about her and Boruto.

When she was thinking about the said blond, he approached her.

“Hey” he started ”I'm sorry for the earlier ...”

“Hn? You don't have to ” she said, walking beside him.

“I have act like an idiot... In fact ... I'm proud of you, you deserve a promotion ...”

"... Thank you ..." She replied looking away. That strange feeling in her stomach is back.

“Oi Sarada! I'm serious” the boy shouted, grinning.

"I know," she replied, smiling back.

“Yep I definitely ship it ...” Mitsuki muttered quietly.

....................................................................................

Ahhhh it takes me so long to write it! But I was very unsatisfatied how they treated Sarada during this episode I did make a whole post about itXD. But still I think that making her chunin would give development opportunities for many characters besides her. For example, I would like to see the reactions of Boruto or Sasuke. I hope you like my way of presenting what could happen If they promoted her too.

#sarada uchiha #borusara #sasusakusara #team7 #boruto uzumaki #mitsuki #sasusaku #Sasuke Uchiha #Sakura Haruno #PAPASUKE #mamakura #chunin exams #mitsucho-mentioned #chocho akimichi #shikadai nara #boruto #naruto

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izupie · 5 years

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‘Cat Therapy’ - Kyoru Week Day 1 - [Stay]

(I made it! Day 1! On time!)

(Fluff, Kyo Swears A Lot, Character Study. Part 1 of 2)

@kyoruweek19

[AO3 Link]

Day 1 - Stay - ‘Cat Therapy’

The first few times Kyo heard her coughing he didn’t even really register it. She’d been cooking the evening meal for them all at the stove like always and it was just the occasional little sound that she muffled with her hand. Nothing to worry about, nothing to note. While they’d been eating, she’d covered it up so well he forgot he’d even heard her coughing at all.

The next day it got worse.

Kyo firmly told her to stay home from school the minute he saw her. She coughed even while she shook her head, but it had clearly kept her up all night, though she’d somehow masked it well enough that it hadn’t woken even him – and he was a notoriously light sleeper. (Probably a Cat thing.)

She looked at him with horror at his suggestion, but her usually bright brown eyes were glazed with the look of someone trying to mask their discomfort.

She’d had a cold recently, but it hadn’t seemed that bad because she’d still been making it to school, and she’d been straight on the cold remedies to treat the symptoms, instead of letting herself get as bad as last time. Nobody had expected her to get this kind of cough as an aftereffect. She’d probably kept so much of it inside instead of blowing her damn nose that she’d made her chest bad. As if on cue Tohru turned away to cough with a violence that shook her tiny frame and made him wince in sympathy.

Of course, Tohru had naturally tried to get dressed and go to school today, insisting she was fine, despite her weakness from all the coughing. Her cheeks looked pale and pasty from the lack of their usual pinkness and even her smile wobbled with the effort it took to put it there.

She looked like shit.

And yet… each time she broke into a coughing fit she’d turn away, like she was ashamed and embarrassed, clutching her chest with the effort of trying to repress it, and he’d feel his heart clench. His hands had balled into fists before he’d even registered it and he was yelling at her to stay at home before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

He was powerless to help her from her own symptoms; from her pain, her discomfort, her guilt and embarrassment, and that pissed him off. Give him something to fight for her and he’d do it. Standing around and just ‘letting her get better’ was not his style.

Especially when she was so bad at looking after herself. She never seemed to give herself the consideration she gave everyone else.

When she coughed so hard for so long that she started gagging the three Sohmas had eventually persuaded her to get back into bed. Despite her loud and frantic denials. “Miss more school,” she’d said in a panic, “I-I can’t. I-I made a promise. I can- I can still go, I’m feeling better, I-”, but whatever she’d wanted to say after that got cut off by the painful sound of her coughing and wheezing.

He was glad when she’d gone back to bed and he didn’t have to look at her pathetic face anymore. Shigure had reassured them that he’d be staying at home all day writing, so he’d listen out for her in case she needed anything, and that he was going to call Hatori to see what he could do for her. It was a surprisingly emotional speech for someone who didn’t really care all that much either way. He just knew what retribution would be waiting for him from the rest of the family if he didn’t look like he was trying to help.

Kyo swore it was like she’d somehow earned the love of the whole damned messed up Zodiac.

School was a trial that day. Even more than usual. He alternated between glaring at people and glaring at the classroom clock. Neither did anything to help. His classmates were determined to know the source of his bad mood, bugging him relentlessly between classes, and that damn rat wouldn’t stop huffing at him with a feigned ignorance whenever he was asked about his ‘sour cousin’. And the clock refused to go faster.

He wasn’t sure why he was even that bothered about whether Tohru was well or not. She’d been sick before and he’d been angry about it before, but this time he was taking it even worse. He just knew while he was at school, he wasn’t at home, and that meant he had no idea how she was. Was she still trying to hide her coughs? Was she getting worse? Would she need to go to hospital? While the same knot of questions bounced endlessly around his head, he was continually denying the guilt settling in his stomach for not taking her seriously that first night. He hadn’t even really noticed. He hadn’t asked her if she was okay. That damn Yuki probably had while he’d been out of earshot – then why didn’t he do something about it then? He could have called Hatori over right away. Maybe that would have prevented how pathetic she looked this morning. The rat should have done something dammit. Isn’t that what he always did? Swooped in and saved the day?

Kyo’s mood darkened enough that his classmates finally seemed to sense that it would be best if he was left well alone.

He glared at Yuki instead. But he didn’t notice.

And then, finally, he was able to go home.

He took the long staircase back to Shigure’s house two at a time, easy with his long legs and supernatural balance – (good for sleeping in trees without falling out and for racing up ridiculously tall and narrow steps without falling over, he noted.) It was odd that he wasn’t even bothered that he hadn’t caught his breath back by the time he’d flung the door open and kicked his shoes off, so that his breathless question of, “How is she?”, came out as one word.

Shigure looked up from his newspaper and raised his eyebrows high. “Well, aren’t we the concerned one today? Did you race all the way back from school to find out how our poor Tohru is fairing?”

Kyo didn’t have time for Shigure’s shitty habit of answering questions with questions, but he gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to lose his temper – knowing that was exactly the reaction the damn dog was looking for.

Shigure laughed. “Oh, well now, that’s certainly a dark look. You’re so easy to tease Kyo, I’m always glad when you come home from school.” He wiped pretend tears from his eyes.

Kyo was one more comment away from telling him to piss off and just going up there himself, but Shigure’s expression finally became more serious as he pointed towards the ceiling.

“She’s resting. Hari gave her some medicine for her chesty cough, and it’s eased. He doesn’t think it’s a chest infection, but she needs to take the medicine twice a day to help it get better, so it doesn’t turn into one. So make sure she has it, Kyo.”

“What? Why me? I’m her friend, not her mo-” Kyo clamped his mouth shut. Bad choice of words. Bad choice of words.

Shigure said nothing but his eyebrows raised even further.

Gods what did she ever do that was bad enough for the universe to decide she deserved him as a friend?

Kyo heaved a breath, calming down after realising his shitty mood had made him say the wrong thing again, and was glad Tohru hadn’t heard him.

Shigure let the weight of Kyo’s cut off word hang in the air for a moment more, then he shook his newspaper taut in front of him, it stood straight with a satisfying snap, and let his eyes roam the pages as if he was reading – even though kyo knew he wasn’t.

“It’s a shame we don’t own a cat,” Shigure said.

“What?”

“A cat, Kyo. Don’t you know?” he went on in an innocent voice. “Cats are supposed to be good for relieving stress.” Shigure couldn’t quite stop the quirk of his mouth at the irony. “It says right here that something happens in your brain when you pet a cat. It makes you feel calm and it even helps with the healing process. If we had a cat Tohru could hold it in bed and feel much better,” he sighed, placing a palm to his cheek dramatically.

“Y’know what – I don’t have time for you today,” Kyo snapped, storming out of the room.

One quick google search later confirmed that Shigure hadn’t been lying through his teeth for once. There were different levels of evidence and success in the studies he looked at online, but it looked like there might actually be some science behind it. Kyo threw his phone onto the bed and dragged a hand over his face. He looked over at the door to his bedroom but stubbornly snapped his head away from it. No.

No. No. No.

No way.

But Yuki wasn’t home yet, so maybe he was stuck doing council stuff after school, and Shigure was reading downstairs…

Kyo shook his head, hating the burning sensation in his cheeks.

No. Way.

There was nothing he could do about the cat thing, he decided. But it wouldn’t hurt to check on her anyway.

When he knocked on her door softly, she answered straight away with a cheerful, “Come in!”.

Kyo entered to see Tohru in her pajamas, sat up under the covers of her bed with her hands folded in her lap. Her cheeks were much pinker than they’d been before school and she’d tied her hair into pigtails to keep it out of her face. The smile she flashed him made something warm spread through his chest.

“Kyo, welcome home! How was school?” Tohru chirped.

“U-Uh yeah. It was fine.”

Kyo was stood tense and rigid by her doorway, his arms folded, and her smile faltered a little in the face of his awkwardness. He hated that he was making her feel uncomfortable, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about what Shigure said.

He tried to cast it out of his mind as he approached her bedside slowly. “But how are you feeling now anyway?”

“Much better, thank you. Hatori gave me some medicine.” She enthusiastically gestured towards a clear bottle of green liquid on the side table next to her.

“And you have to drink that stuff?” Kyo scoffed, peering down at the gross looking liquid. “Looks nasty.”

Tohru giggled in response, the sound tingled straight down his spine, but the effort made her fall back into a small coughing fit. It didn’t have the intensity of what she’d been doing that morning though, so he was reassured that the nasty medicine was at least working.

He placed a soft hand on her shoulder, surprising himself by the way he was always seeking to use touch as a comfort for her, and she bent over low as she tried to suppress the coughing. Kyo’s hand slid to her back and rubbed in slow circles as her small body shook. “If you need to cough, do it as loud and as long as you want, ‘kay? Don’t hold it in, you’ll only make it worse.”

Tohru heaved in a breath and nodded, though she didn’t make any effort to sit back up, and Kyo didn’t stop his hand from circling over her back.

Finally, his hand stilled. “Tohru,” he said softly, unable to stop the soft question from tumbling from his mouth, though he could feel the tips of his ears beginning to burn, “c-can I… hug you?”

“E-Eh?” Tohru squeaked, sitting back up so quickly her pigtails whipped around her.

“I- uh- I heard that cats… make people feel better or something dumb like that. Agh, pretend I didn’t ask. That was a stupid thing to ask-”

“Y-Yes.”

“What?”

“Y-Yes. You c-can.”

Neither of them could seem to look the other in the eyes. Kyo sucked in a breath. He suddenly became unsure of how to actually, do the hugging. Should he just lean down? Put his arms around her? He felt like an idiot.

“S-Sorry,” Tohru suddenly whispered, hiding her face in her hands, “I-I shouldn’t have said yes. Please don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine, I don’t want to cause you any trouble, you should just go and I’ll be okay I-”

His arms went straight around her middle. She gasped as his chin briefly, oh-so briefly, rested on her shoulder and his body touched hers, but then the transformation tugged at that strange place in his stomach and his whole body went numb – always the worst part even though it lasted barely longer than a second. A cloud of orange sparkles cleared from his vision as he looked up at Tohru’s red face from among his clothes from his new position on the bed.

“I’ll stay,” Kyo said with a flick of his tail.

#kyoru week 2019 #kyoru #kyo x tohru #fruits basket #fruits basket fanfiction #my fanfiction

81 notes · View notes

shipping-receiving · 5 years

Text

Fictober 2019 Day 29: “I’m doing this for you.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 2821 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – High School Notes: A continuation of yesterday’s story

(read on AO3)

//////

At 5.57 pm, Jaime pulls up in front of the modest single-storey house that Brienne shares with her dad. He checks his reflection in the rear view mirror—eyes still as green as when he last checked, and not a single strand of golden hair out of place. He takes a deep breath, and gets out of the car.

Just to be safe, he checks his reflection again, or as much of his reflection that he can see in his car window. He’s wearing his navy blue suit with a deep maroon tie—he’s still a Lannister, after all, he has to have some shade of red somewhere—and he thinks he looks quite dashing, thank you very much. But he has no idea what shade of blue Brienne chose in the end, or if she’s even actually going to wear blue like he asked. She’s evaded or flat out ignored every text he’s sent this past week to ask her what she’s wearing. He has three different blue suits, for Seven’s sake; he needs to pick the one that matches best. In the end, he decided the navy was the most neutral option, and he’s now marching his navy-clad self up to Brienne’s front door.

His finger has barely even touched the doorbell when Brienne’s dad flings the door open. Jaime straightens his back immediately.

“Good evening Mr—”

“Yes, hello Jaime.” He shepherds Jaime into the house and into the living room with an outstretched arm. “Let me get one photo of the two of you before I leave.”

“Um—”

“BRIENNE!” he shouts. “JAIME’S HERE!”

Jaime thinks he might have heard a muffled groan, then— “COMING!”

He hears her footsteps coming down the hallway, but just as he’s expecting her to round the corner into the living room, he hears: “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” Jaime asks, at the same time that her dad says, “You look lovely, Brienne,” in that tired way of a man who has said those words to his disbelieving daughter too many times today.

“I don’t—” he hears, and then there’s another groan, and then he sees a corner of navy blue cloth peek out around where he thinks her knee should be. Navy blue is good; navy blue matches his suit. But that corner of navy blue isn’t moving.

“Gods, Tarth, just—”

“Fine!” she exclaims, as she steps out from behind the wall.

Oh.

She’s wearing a sky blue shirt—he thinks it might be a men’s shirt, but it fits her well—with the sleeves rolled up neatly to her elbows. She’s left two buttons unbuttoned so he can see her collarbone—and considering she wears crew neck t-shirts pretty much all the time, he almost feels embarrassed to be able to see her skin there. It’s tucked into a navy blue A-line skirt that hits just below her knee, and it flares out enough that it’s a nice balance to the breadth of her shoulders. Pinned to her shirt is an elegant brooch, a golden starburst set with tiny sapphires, and she’s put a couple of golden bobby pins in her hair, too, just to pin it back from her face. He knows she refuses to wear makeup, and he didn’t expect her to, but her lips look just a touch pinker than usual. And then he looks at her feet and wants to laugh in delight because she’s wearing navy sneakers with white laces, and it works somehow, it works for Brienne, and she probably doesn’t even know it. It’s—the whole look is—well, it’s hardly conventional at all, but Jaime thinks—

“Brienne, you look—”

But before he can even pay her any compliments, she just starts rambling.

“Shut up, Jaime. I’m doing this for you. You asked me to prom. You told me to wear blue. Well, I don’t own a dress, and I couldn’t find one off the rack within my budget, let alone a blue one, and I know this isn’t what girls usually wear to prom but I had to improvise, I don’t even have the right shoes and I’m pretty sure I wore this skirt to a funeral once, and the brooch was my mom’s and it’s the nicest thing I own—”

At that point he grabs both her wrists, and she goes quiet immediately. “Brienne,” Jaime says, in earnest, “I was going to say you look nice.”

“... Oh. Um. Thank you,” she says, stiffly, but there’s a bit of colour to her cheeks now that wasn’t there before. “You—you look nice too.”

Jaime flips his hair dramatically, and flashes her his most winning smile. She rolls her eyes at him, but he swears the colour in her cheeks is three shades darker than it was three seconds ago.

Suddenly, he feels a hand on his back swivel him around.

“Alright, one photo before we all have to get out of here.” Brienne’s dad is definitely pressing the button on his phone for far longer than it takes to take one photo. “Smile for the camera!”

“Where’s he going?” he asks Brienne from between his teeth. He puts his hand around her waist.

“Date,” Brienne mutters under her breath. She squirms beneath his hand.

When her dad is finally done taking probably a hundred entirely identical photos, he gives her a huge hug and says, “Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Jaime bites back a smile when he sees Brienne’s eyes widen, as if she’s thinking, but you do a lot of things, Dad. Then, they’re ushered out the door, in the direction of Jaime’s car.

Jaime thinks about holding her hand, just the short way from the front door to his car. But then he thinks of her squirming beneath his hand on her waist, and doesn’t. He uses that hand to open the door for her on the passenger side.

For the first half of the drive to school, neither of them say a single word. Jaime notices that Brienne seems to be taking very deep breaths.

“Are you nervous, or something?” Jaime asks, finally.

“What do you think?” she snaps.

Hells.

“It’s just prom,” Jaime says. He feels stupid already, saying something like that when he’s dressed in his navy blue suit for the occasion.

“What do you mean, it’s just prom?” she scoffs. “How can it be just prom when you know you’re definitely going to be crowned Prom King?”

“Not definitely.”

“Definitely.”

“Since when do you care about that kinda stuff, Brienne?”

“I don’t care, I’m just—but I’m your—don’t you care?”

“Not really.” Okay, he might care a little bit, but not really accommodates a little bit of caring, right? “I just want to have a nice night with you.”

Brienne doesn’t respond.

They’re at a red light right around the corner from the school now, and he can already see everyone making their way inside. He looks over at Brienne, at how her eyes are fixed on them, in their dresses and their suits. Then, she stares down at her skirt, where her hands are bunched up tightly in the fabric.

They don’t speak again until he’s parked the car.

When he gets out, Brienne is still sitting in her seat, not moving. It’s not that he doesn’t want to open her door for her, it’s just that the few times she’s been in his car, she’s never waited for him to do that. But it’s prom night, right? He wants to do this for her. Yet, when he opens the door, she’s still frozen in her seat.

“Brienne.”

No answer.

“Tarth!”

She startles, looks up at him. “Sorry. I’m. I’m ready.” But then she turns her head back to the dashboard, and she’s still not moving.

“Are you okay?” Jaime puts his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, as if she wants to crawl into the glove compartment and hide there. “I’m—it’s nothing. Let’s go. I can do this. I—I want to do this for you. I don’t want you to miss prom.”

“Why do you keep saying that? You’re doing this ‘for me’? If you didn’t want to come with me—”

“No—” She looks up at him again, eyes wild with alarm. “it’s not that I don’t want to go with you. I just—it’s a lot of people. A lot of dancing people. A lot of girls in dresses a lot nicer than what I’m wearing. A lot of people who don’t—think very much of me.” She worries at her lip for a few seconds, then says, “These people also think very much of you.”

“I don’t care what they think.” It’s not entirely true, but it’s truer than it was before he became friends with Brienne. “Since when do you care what they think?”

“I don’t! It’s just—too many people who’d be looking, and whispering, and I’m not even in a dress—”

“I think you look great!” Should he be more descriptive? He can absolutely be more descriptive if that’s what she needs.

“I know you do!” She takes another deep breath. “But—look, it’s fine, give me a second and I’ll, I’ll get through it.”

“Don’t—” Don’t torture yourself for me, Jaime wants to say. But Brienne has already swung her legs out of the car, and is striding with purpose towards the school.

Then, as they get nearer to the entrance, he sees it. The way people turn to look at her, and at him right next to her. He sees exactly what she was so nervous about.

Brienne’s strides are a little less purposeful now.

“Brienne.” He tugs on her arm. “Why don’t we just—go somewhere? Away from all of this?”

She turns back to him. “I don’t want you to miss prom!” she repeats, helplessly.

“We don’t have to go far. Somewhere in school. I’m sure there has to be a classroom that isn’t locked. Or your corner, where we used to study.” Where I asked you to prom.

Brienne stares at him for a long while. “The library,” she says, finally. Then she turns, and walks away.

——————————

This is so stupid, Brienne thinks, as she keys in the door code to the library. That part isn’t the stupid part—she got the code from the librarian barely two months into her first year, because she’s smart and she uses the library diligently for its intended purposes. The part that is stupid, is how she just basically panicked just before she was about to go to prom with Jaime. How many girls in this school would die to be in her position?

She switches on the lights in the far corner, where there’s a couple of comfy couches. Jaime is following close behind her as she walks towards them. She sits on one of the couches, and expects him to take the other, but he settles himself right beside her instead. It’s snug, and their arms touch. It’s not even her skin against his; he’s wearing his suit after all. She tucks her arm into herself anyway.

“How do you know the code?” he asks, moving closer to her.

“The librarian likes me.” She can’t move further away, unless she devises a way to melt into the arm of the couch. “Sometimes I stay past opening hours to study.”

“Nerd,” Jaime says, and there’s no cruelty in it at all.

“Guilty as charged,” she replies, with a small smile.

She leans back on the couch, stretches out her legs, and Jaime mirrors her. She looks over at him, all dapper in his navy blue suit—it had taken all her willpower not to collapse in the living room when she saw him—and then she looks down at her own outfit, cobbled together from so many random parts. She’s wearing sneakers. And she’s supposed to be at prom with Jaime Lannister.

Brienne needs to know, and now’s no better time than any other. “Why did you ask me to prom, Jaime?”

He turns his head to her. “Why not?” he asks in return, as if she’d just asked him the most ludicrous question.

“I’m—I’m Tarth,” she insists. Like that would explain everything.

Jaime just laughs. “That’s why I asked you. Because you’re Tarth. Because you’re Brienne, and I like you, and I don’t want to go to prom with anyone else.”

Wait.

“Um.” She’s gripping the fabric of her skirt again, though she’s already creased it in the car. “Can we rewind just a little bit?

“To which part?”

“To that part where you said… you like me?”

“What about it?”

“Could we just—make that crystal clear?”

“Um. I… like you? I’m not really sure how to be anymore straightforward about it.”

“Like… as a friend?”

“No…?”

“Oh.” Oh gods.

“Yeah. I know I haven’t really said it, but. I was kinda planning on doing that later tonight. During prom. Or after, maybe. Your dad didn’t actually give me a time to have you back home.”

“Oh—uh—he usually doesn’t have to worry about that.” She’s usually the one wondering when her dad will get back from his dates, actually.

And then Brienne looks down to where her hand is gripping her skirt. Except she’s not gripping her skirt. She’s gripping Jaime’s hand.

When did that happen?

“I’m going to assume,” Jaime says, tentatively, “since you haven’t let go of my hand yet, that this is fine with you.”

Brienne just nods. Is it very warm in here? It feels very warm. It feels like her shirt is sticking to her back.

“And just to be crystal clear—” he nudges their linked hands— “do you like me? Or are we just sitting here, on a couch in the school library on a Saturday evening, holding hands as friends?”

All this time, all the time since she became his friend, Brienne never dared to ask herself that question. Does she like Jaime? She would have been terrified of saying yes, even just to herself. But if she had said no—it would have been a lie. So she just… didn’t ask.

But now, now she just nods again. She does like him. Until she realises he asked two questions. She forces herself to look at him, look into his eyes. “Yes… to the first question.”

Jaime is breaking into a grin now, the stupidest, widest grin she’s ever seen on his face. It must be infectious, because he’s teasing her with, “I’ve never seen you smile that wide before.” And then, of course: “The blush is pretty standard though.”

“Shut up,” is all she can say.

What a witty comeback, Brienne. You don’t deserve the door code to the library.

“How are you feeling now?” Jaime asks.

Deliriously happy. “I’m okay.”

“Are you ready to go?” Gods. Prom. Of course there’s still prom. She can hear the music sounding faintly from the school hall.

She’s trying to nod again, but she’s pretty sure she has a pained expression on her face.

“You’re a terrible liar, Brienne,” Jaime smiles. Again, there’s no hint of cruelty in his observation. Just—something like affection.

She sighs. “I really don’t want you to miss prom.”

Jaime shrugs. “And I don’t want you to suffer through it.” He sinks further into the couch. “This is really quite comfortable. Do people study on these? I’d fall asleep in seconds.”

“It’s a prime spot, actually,” Brienne retorts. “Which you’d know if you had used this library for something other than talking to Addam.”

“We were whispering!”

“It was louder than actual talking, Jaime.”

Jaime just rolls his eyes at her. That’s supposed to be Brienne’s move. She’s the eye roller in this—this—well, she supposes it’s no longer a friendship, as of three minutes ago.

They sit in silence for a little longer, still holding hands.

Eventually, Brienne asks, “So what happens now?”

Jaime doesn’t answer immediately. He lets go of her hand, shrugs off his suit jacket, loosens his tie. “We don’t go to prom, I guess.”

“Are you sure—”

“I’m sure. I’d rather be here with you.” He’s stretching his arm across her shoulders now. “In your natural habitat.”

“So we’re going to just sit here?”

“Well.” Jaime wraps his fingers around her upper arm. “There’s other things we can do.”

“Oh.” Brienne looks around at the shelves upon shelves of books. “Like… read?”

“Um.” Jaime seems almost caught off guard by her suggestion, but they’re in a library after all. What else is there to do in a library? “I suppose we could read,” he accedes. “Or I could kiss you. If you want.”

Oh. That would be a misuse of the privilege of knowing the door code, wouldn’t it? But Brienne supposes it’s fine, when it’s just a Saturday evening. When it’s just the two of them. There are hundreds of other students, dancing and maybe even kissing too, in the school hall not too far away. It’s just the two of them, though, in this corner of the library.

She would have gone to prom with him, eventually. She would have done it for him. But then he offered to skip prom, for her.

So she lets him kiss her. She lets herself kiss him. After all of that—it’s the least she can do.

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #i'm tired this might be terrible #also i nixed corsages/boutonnieres because i'm not familiar with the etiquette

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haloud · 5 years

Text

take a chance and don’t ever look back: chapter 2

ao3

Senior year is everything and nothing like it was supposed to be. Maybe if Michael had more chance to watch television as a kid, he would have had a clearer expectation of what was to come; or maybe he just would have had a false hope to rail against.

Whatever the case, in real life he flew blind.

But it’s almost over now. He photocopies his scholarship letter from UNM and sticks it to the roof of his truck so he can look at it when it rains and the stars aren’t out. Final exams are a few weeks out, but for the first time in his life they don’t feel like the end of his world knocking down the door. He did it. He’s in. Everything else is just the credits rolling.

Only one more hurdle to jump.

Michael and Alex still don’t really know each other. Their circles brush a little more these days than they used to—Michael goes where his siblings go, Isobel goes where Max goes, so all three of them go to the Crashdown every day ending in Y. It’s not such a big deal, though, not yet. Prom has always been Michael’s endgame. A big gesture. Something deserving of Alex Manes and his smile and the nose piercing he got over the summer. Max keeps talking about how he and Liz are running out of time, but Michael doesn’t see why things have to end the second he hits the highway. People say long distance relationships never work out, but people also seem to think they’re alone in the universe. Clearly, people need to start using their imaginations.

Now, Michael never skips class, and he’s never really had to put up with bullies despite the rumors he’s homeless because everyone’s too scared of Isobel. But it’s a matter of course that he’d have a handful of hiding places across campus. Last time he grew he ended up too tall to fit in his old spot under the east stairs, but the new spot is even better: a little-used janitor’s closet sandwiched between two auditorium access doors. Spring is his new favorite season, because sometimes when he posts up in there during lunch or after class, he can hear the orchestra practicing for their upcoming concert.

It’s there where he gets the idea to kick off his master plan with a little bit of petty theft. Not the best idea, but Alex hasn’t gotten any easier to talk to, not when Michael’s heart still starts to tap dance whenever they’re in the same room. At least this gets his attention.

Smoothing his hands over Alex’s guitar feels all at once both sacred and utterly profane. He feels it under his palms for hours after giving it back.

And then…Michael always knew Alex was kind, but he doesn’t even have words for what it is that Alex offers him in a steady voice. Nothing to say but thank you, each word like the sound of a gonging bell between them. He doesn’t even get to ask what he was going to ask, too overwhelmed and grateful and awed and small inside.

On prom night, it seems like the whole school’s gone stag this year. There’s Liz and Valenti, of course, but everyone else Michael knows is only coming to party. Even Isobel doesn’t even play at wanting a trophy on her arm this year. When Michael asks her who she’s taking, she goes wan and tense the way she spends too much time going these days and snaps that of course she’s taking him, why, does he not want her to? Some college girl from Albuquerque already making the drive for him?

It stings a little—or, okay, a lot, but Michael gets it better than anyone else possibly could. Sometimes it feels like he knows people best by the way their backs look shrinking in the distance. He doesn’t want that for Is; she deserves to know that she’s always gonna be his best girl. So he spends half the night showing her a good time, making her laugh on the dance floor, keeping her company even when Max drifts away to follow Liz at a distance. It’s a bit of a dent on his plans, but nothing’s more important to him than Is knowing she’s gonna be loved.

The party’s in full swing when she turns to him, eyes sparkling, cheeks pinker than her dress, and says, “Isn’t there anyone else you’d rather dance with? Not that I’m not flattered, of course!”

Michael turns pink too. He feels like he’s been hearing Alex’s name whispered all night, but he can’t be sure because that’s just kind of normal for him. Isobel smiles—not her teasing grin, but a resigned twist of her lips.

“Go,” she says, punching his shoulder lightly.

“Are you sure? I don’t have to—”

“Go, Michael. You’ve done enough. I mean it.” Isobel leans in and kisses him on the cheek. As if to prove her point, she then turns sharply on her heel and stalks like a lioness to some random guy on the dance floor. Michael laughs, shaking his head. Oh, Isobel.

Oh, Alex.

It’s now or never. Michael has to find him in the crush of bodies somehow, has to seize the moment before it’s gone for good. He’s sweating a little too much, though, he’s a little too disheveled, a little too emotional. He just needs to catch his breath, maybe splash some water on his face. Slipping out the side door—really, it shouldn’t be this easy, aren’t these things chaperoned?—Michael sucks in a breath that chills his lungs, the building’s AC cranked up high to compensate for all the grinding, grasping bodies packed into one room. He heads straight for the bathroom, his secondhand dress shoes bouncing eerily off the walls of the deserted school. He rounds the corner, only to slam straight into the sharp shoulder of someone waiting on the other side. It clips him right in the center of his chest and he sprawls back, arms windmilling, until his back hits the lockers with a bang.

“Guerin?” The person almost-shouts. Michael jerks his arms up to cover his face before the voice registers to his brain.

“Oh god, oh god, Guerin, I’m so sorry, I thought you were someone else—” Alex babbles, and Michael jerks his arms down as quickly as they came up. Alex grabs his shoulders and pulls him forward, presses at a few places on his back to feel for bruising. Michael feels himself ragdoll with a combination of adrenaline leaving his body and the sheer sweet relief of Alex touching him with care, but he manages to coordinate his mouth muscles enough to speak.

“It’s okay, Manes, it’s okay. I’m fine.” He straightens up, holding his arms out to demonstrate. Alex relents slightly; the last thing he does is tug the lapels of Michael’s jacket so it settles neat back over his shoulders.

(He really hopes Alex doesn’t look down.)

The silence rattles around the cavernous hallway. Nothing but linoleum and concrete and emptiness in every direction, but Michael and Alex stand occupying the same foot of space, breathing in each other’s air.

Clearing his throat, Michael says, “Uh, I was just—got a little hot in there. What are you doing out here?”

Alex’s eyes dart off to the side, and he chews on his lower lip. Michael is about to say he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to when the door Michael came through bursts open and spills out four or five loud voices. The color drains from Alex’s face, and Michael doesn’t think, just says:

“I know a place. Come on.”

The two of them take off, cutting through all the shortcuts Michael knows until they reach the narrow auditorium accessway. Even this late at night, the door to the janitor’s closet remains blessedly unlocked.

One thing he didn’t plan for though: it’s a little cramped for two people. Michael’s “don’t look down” problem is going to become a different problem entirely if Alex gets too fidgety. Luckily, it’s at least too dark for Alex to see how he’s lighting up pink.

Potential for embarrassment aside, Michael doesn’t like the angry hunch of Alex’s shoulders, the ducked head, the clenched jaw. He wants to reach out and, and hug him, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. Doesn’t know if comforting him like that would be okay. So he stumbles out, “Hey, a-are you okay? I know it’s probably a stupid question since it’s prom and we’re standing in a janitor’s closet, but—"

“I’m just pissed. It’s Valenti. He keeps popping up, and he hasn’t said anything yet, but I know he’s going to. And everywhere I look there’s a football player staring back. I shouldn’t let Valenti get to me. I kept telling myself this year would be different after last year was so boring and crappy but I’ve spent all night avoiding his stupid cronies instead of having any fun. And then I almost decapitated a perfectly innocent guitar-stealing weirdo.” At that last sentence, his eyes flick to Michael’s and he makes an attempt at a smile, at lessening the tension.

Michael’s shoulders drop in relief, and heart skipping a beat at Alex’s mention of last year, he licks his lips. Last year wasn’t boring for Michael. He’s kind of been measuring time in terms of before last year and after he started waking up with Alex’s name on his lips.

“Night’s not over yet. Pretty much everyone’s still out there. But hey, as Roswell’s resident guitar-stealing weirdo, I totally get it if that’s more your idea of a good time.”

Alex laughs an actual laugh, and Michael has to glance down to make sure he’s just being a sappy dork and hasn’t actually floated off the floor. Then Alex gets serious again and shakes his head.

“Going out and dancing by myself would just encourage them. ‘Get a load of Manes, he’s a loser and a—”

“Who says you’d be alone?” Michael’s voice comes out embarrassingly high-pitched, and he jams a knuckle against his lips. Alex glances at him, one eyebrow cocked, sharp dark eyes flicking left to right like Michael is a puzzle he’s been trying to solve for days.

Maybe even longer.

Outside their little sanctuary and a hallway over, a locker door crashes and the voices from before whoop loudly. The two boys flinch together, and without thinking Michael grabs Alex’s elbow and tugs him slightly behind him, putting himself between Alex and the door. They stay like that for a long moment, as the bangs and shouts move away and go silent. Michael’s head is tilted so he can still look Alex in the eye. Alex’s pupils are dilated in the dim light, but the effect is the same as if—Michael feels a little devoured, just then, a little eaten up. He’s never felt like this before. He wants to bury himself in Alex’s chest and trust Alex to hold him tight. Those long, dark eyelashes flutter every time Alex blinks, and Michael wants to feel them against his cheeks.

Alone again, the outside world feels so far away. Michael turns fully and rocks up onto his toes to bring their mouths closer together, just because he can. “Whaddya say, Manes?” he asks, jerking his thumb in the direction of the faint, faint music.

Alex draws himself up so tall and close it makes Michael’s heart beat faster. His heart falls again, though, when Alex shakes his head.

Then Alex says, “Nah. Not here. If you really want to, you can take me out some other time, where we don’t have to put up with those assholes. Deal?”

He skims his fingertips over the back of Michael’s hand. It restarts Michael’s heart in double-time, makes goosebumps erupt all down that arm. His curls bounce up and down as he nods his head. It’s scary—god, how is he going to come up with something for them to do?—but also Michael can’t stop smiling.

“Maybe I kind of wanted to dance with you, though,” he says.

Alex chuffs a little laugh. “Then maybe I’ll just have to go to dances more often.”

“We-eelllll…” Michael can’t help the spread of his grin, even though all the smiling makes his cheeks hurt. “When you do, maybe you’ll save a spot on your schedule for me?” He knocks his scuffed-up shoe against Alex’s. He’s so warm in this little space they’ve made together. He always picks his hiding places because they feel safe, but he had no idea he could feel like this.

“Yeah.” Alex swallows twice, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I will. I’ll save a spot for you right at the end.”

“The end? That gonna give us enough time?”

“Last song’s as long as you want it to be. Sometimes it even keeps going once you get home.”

Just like that, Michael’s uncomfortable problem is back. His heels hit the floor again flat, and he splutters all undignified as the closet lights up white with Alex’s feral grin.

“I think they’re gone. Shall we?” Alex says while Michael tries to collect himself.

“U-uh, yeah. After you.”

They climb out of the closet into the now-deserted hallway. Alex reaches out and steadies Michael when he stumbles over the lip of the doorframe, but the weight and sensation of his hands just makes Michael feel like Jell-O. At the intersection of the hallway—one side leading back to the dance, one side leading outdoors—Alex stops, grabbing Michael’s wrist to jerk him to a halt too.

“Alex?”

He doesn’t get a response, just intense, calculating eyes boring into him, staring him down. It’s been Michael’s greatest lifelong fear, being dissected, but he lets it happen now. Alex’s eyes pin him down spread-eagle on a steel table, but standing so close to him, leashed by that hand around his wrist, he only feels drifting and docile like a beehive smoked out. He wants to ask what’s wrong but can’t make his brain connect to his mouth to make words.

Slowly, oh-so slowly, Alex reaches out and, with just two fingers, smooths that loose curl back behind Michael’s ear. Michael’s mouth pops open on a breathy little sound as Alex follows that path again, stoking his forehead, combing through his hair. Then Alex nods, just once, like he’s come to some decision. Michael doesn’t know what it might be, but it’s okay, he’s cool with Alex calling the shots from now on as long as they can stay close like this.

“I’m going to the bathroom to freshen up a bit,” Alex says. “Meet me outside by the trellis? We can get food or something before everywhere closes.”

“Y-yeah, sounds good. I’m here with Isobel, but I’ll—I’ll let her or Max know.”

Alex gives him a little smile before he walks away. Michael sways in his direction just a little bit before he collects himself and goes the other way.

Standing under the latticework and the fairy lights, Michael closes his eyes and lets the night feel magical. He lets the whole, vast night wrap around him like the scent of Alex’s cologne pressed up against him in a tiny janitor’s closet. His mind whirls and crashes but for once the noise just sounds like singing.

What if Alex kisses him? Michael’s lower lip tingles, and he bites at it to make it stop. He’s not some blushing virgin; just because Alex is tall and his dark eyeliner makes his eyes look even darker, doesn’t mean Michael should be acting like a princess.

Alex has never had a boyfriend, at least not that Michael knows about. Maybe Alex is a virgin. Maybe Michael could be his first—

The thought makes Michael’s heart skip a beat, and he almost slaps himself before remembering that he is, technically, in public. You’re getting way ahead of yourself, he thinks. Who says Alex wants to be anything more than friends? Maybe Alex doesn’t even want him just because he’s offering. Besides, Michael’s never been with a guy either, so maybe he’d be crap at it…

Great, now he’s just depressed.

“Dude, are you okay? You just went on one hell of a face journey.”

Michael startles bad for the second time tonight, but this time when he whirls around it’s just Max.

“Dude, you know not to sneak up on me.” He smacks Max lightly on the shoulder, and Max rolls with it, nodding.

“You’re right, I know. Seriously, though, you okay? Where have you been all night?”

“Spent most of it with Is, why?”

“Well, she was alone a little while ago when she drove off.”

“She left?”

“Yeah. Said she wasn’t feeling it or something.”

“She was fine when I left her. Hell, she was the one who told me to go.”

They face each other under the fairy lights. Max won’t stop staring. Michael’s skin feels too small for his body.

Finally, Max says, “I’m sure she’s fine. There are a hundred Isobel reasons why she’d want to leave early.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right,” Michael replies, weak with relief. “How’re you going to get home? I’ve,” he runs his hand through the curls at the back of his neck, “made plans, but, uh, what about you?”

“I’ll figure something out.” Max’s voice trails off, his attention already wandering. “I don’t want to leave until Liz does, in case…”

Michael lets out a little bubble of laughter. Shine on you crazy diamond.

“Why don’t you go find her? I’m sure Valenti will stop pissing on her leg long enough for you to get in one dance. Also I’m meeting someone here, so like, would kind of love to not have my dork-ass brother hanging around.”

Max scoffs and shoves at Michael’s head. “Shut up. I’m the cool brother and you know that.”

“Uh huh, says who? Tolstoy? Dostoyevsky?”

“Sholokhov, plebian.”

“Ugh, you disgust me.”

Max laughs again. Then he glances up at the building, brow furrowed. Michael follows his line of sight, heart leaping when he sees Alex hurrying down the stairs, then plummeting into his stomach as Valenti and the rest of the starting line spill out in pursuit.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The night ends sudden after that. The football players disperse, and Max does too, either home or wherever Liz Ortecho went, Michael doesn’t really care. There’s a cold little grain of disappointment in his chest, but the skin of his shoulder still burns where Alex squeezed him as he left.

Michael trails his path out to the parking lot, in no particular hurry, now, for the night to end. Alex is long gone. Michael hopes Liz managed to give him some comfort before he drove away, left angry to a house that hates him, and—

He decides then and there that he’s going to the toolshed that night. He hadn’t been sure if he would before, not sure how taking Alex’s charity would affect things between them. But all he care about now is being there, being close enough that maybe it brings Alex a little peace, as if he can feel him, even if he doesn’t know he’s there.

Something rustles under his foot as he steps off the sidewalk, and he moves his foot aside to reveal a champagne-colored rose, delicate and tightly-furled. The same one that had been threaded through Alex’s buttonhole when they stood so close their chests nearly brushed.

Michael cups it in his hands like it might fly away. That night, he fills one of his cupholders full of water and floats it there for want of a vase.

And there it stays.

#malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico

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thoseofgreatambition · 6 years

Text

teacher’s assistant

Hi there! Could I request George x reader reuniting after breaking up for a while?--Anon

warnings: none, kinda pg-13ish but nothing awful

pairing/au: george x reader, muggle!college au

a/n: so a lot of this idea sprang from me talking to @nosebleednougats sO GO FOLLOW MY WIFE

It started out innocently enough.

If innocent meant that you’d spent every class since the first one day dreaming about how to get your hot TA to make out with you.

Then yeah, started out pretty innocently.

Could anyone blame you though? He stood out like a red flag.

Which was not a pun about his bright red hair.

In your business class, you hadn’t expected the TA to show up with long red hair to his shoulders, much less dressed in what appeared to be a homemade sweater. You remembered someone next to you cracking a joke that he missed the Humanities building by a couple hundred yards.

But you couldn’t stop looking at him.

When your teacher introduced him, his name stuck to your mind more than anything else you’d gone over that day.

George.

George, around midterms had offered a tutoring session at his place. You were very quick to accept the offer, and you could feel your heart thumping in your chest when you knocked on his door.

Your grades were fine-- it was a hard class and you were wrangling in a high B. Which was probably why George looked so surprised to see you at his doorstep. “Y/N?”

“Hey George-- I ah... today’s the study session right?” your brow crinkled as you noticed his face grow just a bit pinker before he began to nod quickly.

“It is-- yeah. We were about to start. Come on in. I ordered some pizza, are you hungry?”

The study session went well-- about you and five other people from your class had come but as it got later and later more and more people filtered out as the studying ended and it became more of a chatting session.

Finally it was you and George, with you sitting on the counter and him standing right in front of you, close enough to touch. He’d told a funny story and you let out a laugh, trying to cover your mouth while you did so only to have him gently put a hand on your arm. “You shouldn’t cover your mouth. Smiling’s a good thing y’know.”

He liked your smile.

It was one of his favorite things about your class.

Not sure where to place your hand when you’d lowered it, you’d set it on his shoulder and fiddled with the ends of his hair. You sucked in a deep breath as you both leaned in and his soft lips crashed into yours.

George let out a groan as he gripped your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could, and one of your hands gripped a fistful of his shirt and the other ran through his hair.

After that things just seemed to keep happening. You’d wrapped your legs around his waist, he’d pressed kisses and bites to your neck before asking if you wanted to take things further, to which you enthusiastically nodded and said, ‘Hell yes’.

Which was how you got here, groggy and grumpy as a rather loud alarm clock went off and woke you both up. “What’s happening?”

“It’s for my morning class.” George’s voice was soft next to you, as he rolled over to turn off his alarm, before rolling back to look at you. One of his large hands ran through your hair, and his expression had the same sense of conflict that you were feeling at the moment. “I don’t do one night stands or just-- flings, really.”

“Me either.” there was silence as he pulled you closer, your face pressed into his collar bone. “I really like you George.”

“I like you a lot too. You’re awful distracting in class, you know that right?”

At that you snickered, “I ought to be telling you that.” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and you felt your heart flutter a bit. “But-- are we allowed to date? That sounds like something that’d get you in trouble.”

“Both of us in trouble, actually.” his voice was soft against you, and you felt your heart sink into your stomach.

“So this can’t happen again?”

“No, not until the semester’s over.”

So almost-- eight weeks?

Two months.

That sounded like forever.

“That sucks.”

George felt a pang of pain in his chest, your voice sounded so quiet and hurt. He didn’t like this any more than you did. He’d always thought of himself as the guy who wouldn’t have sex outside of a proper relationship.

Not that doing it was bad but--

It wasn’t him.

But here he was, having made things so much more difficult.

“I don’t think you and I should be by ourselves until the semesters over.” his voice was quiet and you nodded.

It was harsh sounding sure, but you had to agree that were you alone with him again it meant you’d probably wind up making out or worse. “That’s a good idea.” Suddenly, without much warning you rolled out of bed and quickly started to get dressed.

“Y/N I’m sorry.”

“‘ts not your fault. I wanted to have sex just as much as you did George. I like you just as much. We both did the stupid thing.”

He winced at hearing you call it a ‘stupid thing’.

In your rush you simply shoved everything into your backpack, thanked god you didn’t have classes on Friday and threw on your shoes. “I’ll see you in class.”

Like that you left his room, brushed past who you assumed to be his brother, and hurriedly left his apartment.

George felt a rather cold space in his bed now that you were gone, and covered himself up with a blanket before Fred popped his head in the door. “Is that the--”

“Yeah--”

“And you slept with--”

“Yeah--”

“Even though you could get kicked out of the program?”

“Yeah.”

Fred pursed his lips and stared at his brother, “Maybe you ought to skip class today.”

At that, George laid back down. “Sounds like a good idea.”

What had been your favorite class, had turned into your least favorite class over night.

You were still doing well, but instead of looking forward to talking to George thrice every week you now dreaded the fact that you had to see him at all.

It hurt George just as much. You would come in right before class stared, exit the moment it ended, and pointedly avoided eye contact the entire time.

Really, it was for the best.

It was.

It was it was it was.

If you weren’t to do those things George was fairly certain his resolve would crumble.

It wasn’t until you’d missed a whole week of class because of the flu, that your agreement to not see each other had to be ignored. You’d sent an email to the professor asking what you needed to make up and what you’d missed and he’d told you to go to George’s office hours and find out what had happened.

With a sense of dread, you’d done just that.

Weaving through the maze of cubicles you stood at the entrance of his little space before finally stepping in. He looked at you in surprise before finally speaking, “Y/N! Are you alright? I haven’t seen you come to class in ages--”

“I had the flu, the professor wanted me to ask you what I missed and have you catch me up.”

George glanced around and realized that since it was towards the end of office hours you two would be alone all too soon.

Dammit.

Still, it wasn’t like he could just shove notes at you.

George pulled up the lecture slides on his computer and ushered you to sit next to him. “I’ll catch you up.”

You nodded, and instead of focusing on the fact that you could feel how warm he was you focused on the short lecture he was delivering and your notes.

It took a couple of hours, but you were finally caught up.

Caught up and very exhausted from acting like you weren’t in love with the man next to you.

“Thanks George. Good to know I’ll be set for the Final.”

“The semester ends in two weeks.”

You nodded at his words, eager to get out before your resolve completely dissolve. “It does.” you caught his gaze and realized what he was getting at. “When you said-- after the semester... did you mean after the final or once grades are processed? If you still- I mean, if that’s what you meant...” you found yourself stumbling over your words, your friends had brought up the very good point that even if George seemed like a good guy, there were plenty of people who would use that as an excuse to get out of a one night stand situation.

“Once grades are processed, since I have a hand in grading, even if I don’t see who it is it’s important that no one says I favored you--” then the rest of what you said hit him. “I meant it!” his voice carried quite loud, though it was a good thing there was no one else in the office left. Really, George wasn’t sure how it’d happened but he’d fallen quite in love with you, and wasn’t sure how to get out.

He stood up from his seat, and you felt every nerve in your body light up as he reached out for you. “George we can’t.”

“I’m serious though. I don’t want you to think I’m not.”

You nodded, though it was hard to really think in those terms about someone who you couldn’t actually date. Words and actions were different things. “I should go. You were right, us being alone together isn’t a great idea.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded, his arm dropping “Okay.”

Like your night together six weeks ago, you rushed out, and George felt rather cold with you gone.

It was done.

It was over.

The last grade was processed, there were no ways the grades could change, you were officially done with the class.

Honestly, your first thought had been to seek out George, but the student part of you that had a final just yesterday that had whooped your ass and had pulled several all nighters that week was tired as hell.

So you were quite deeply asleep when you heard a banging on your apartment door.

Grumbling just a bit as you rolled out of bed and shuffled to answer the door-- not paying attention to your sweat pants and baggy sweater when you opened it to see a rather flushed George who seemed as if he’d run a long ways.

“George?” the sleep was still in your voice, and you quickly rubbed your eyes to wake yourself up. You opened the door a little more so he could step in and closed it behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Do you want to be with me?”

Well that woke you up.

“Well yeah--” you were cut off by George pulling you into a crushing embrace and pressing his lips as deeply into yours as he could. Like before you wrapped your arms around him as tightly as possible and let out a groan as he pressed you against a wall. Even though it wasn’t possible you kept trying to pull him closer and closer as you groaned into his mouth.

When he parted from you, you let out a rather pitiful whine to which George responded with a chuckle. “’m not doing that again until I can take you out on a proper date, alright?”

You let out a snort of a laugh, “I didn’t take you for such a traditionalist.”

“Well, I feel like we missed a few steps. Thought it’d be nice to go back and fix that, if you didn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

Permanent tag list: @artemiserenity @fainting-fancy @scumbag-joker @rexster10 @oh-the-snowinthemoonlight @hermione-who @geeksareunique @phantomhive-shadow @thephelpstwins @notstandingstill-imlyinginwait @siriuslyimmoony @yourslytherinprincess @bloomweasley @gobletofweasley @stillwater20-blog @dramatic-and-young @starlitmoony @blusnowflakee @l-am-tired @lovelaughlivesmilebright @wizardingworldwaitforme @imaginethis-st @xinyourdreamsx

george weasley tag list: @wildfire-whizbangs @dwarfwizard-from-panem

#george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #my writing #my imagines #requested

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rearadmiralanarchy · 6 years

Text

A little Vampire thing for ya

Meant as an aside to Son of God, Son of Man (if you went for the happy ending) and also because I don’t know how long or how evil I want to be with that werewolf one yet.

CW: Self-harm, blood-drinking, kinda dubious morality

It had been three weeks since Giorno had found Mista's cottage on the outskirts of the Joestar territory.

At first, Mista was worried the blond wouldn't join him, wouldn't leave that cursed land behind. He had agreed to the burning of the keep, allowed Mista to take some relics, some proof of the whole ordeal, but they parted ways at the gate, 'unfinished business, you understand, yes?' Mista didn't but let Giorno go anyway. Regret turned to pining turned to a kind of desperation, then a question of if the blond existed at all- only the gloves offering any tangible proof. His brief return to the city was spent in a haze, sadness and longing blinding him and perforating his memory, leaving wide gaps of lost time.

It cleared, if only slightly, with the fresh air of the countryside, with the monotony of simple chores, but the endless waiting wore away at his mind. When Giorno finally came for him, sneaking in under the moonlight, finding Mista sitting despondent on the edge of his bed, eyes shut but still upright, he hadn't believed it was real- but Giorno was patient, and held his cheeks through the tears, whispering soft things through the night. When Mista woke up that next morning arms wrapped tight around a sleeping, breathing, genuine Giorno in his arms, he cried again. The last bullet may have been a dud, and the dhampir or homunculus or whatever the blond was had continued to live, but his departure still felt as final as death.

The days after were full of touching, the barest at first to make sure he wasn't some illusion, and little by little it got easier. The heartbreak dulled, the nightmares waned, the gardening and housework a little less all encompassing. Now, three weeks since Giorno arrived, a new problem arose. He honestly would have missed noticing it if he hadn't become so tactile and attentive (he hated to use the term ‘clingy’).

It started with with furtive glaces, at wrists and the tan column of Mista's neck. The blond slept nuzzled against the former hunter, lips pressed to his throat, a hand over his heart, sometimes kissing gently, before catching himself and moving away. Mista had an inkling of what this meant and was rather surprised it took so long to remember why it was even a thing. It was not a stretch to assume Giorno drank blood, drank his blood at one time before probably, likely craved it as his vampiric sire did.

He didn't know how often, how necessary, anything else though- the blond rarely spoke of his past and Mista was never taught anything of that nature. His knowledge of vampires and their kind extended as far as identification and eradication. Neither were helpful in the care-taking of the amalgamation that made up Giorno. Mista had gone back to the lab as Giorno had dropped down to inspect the remnants smeared atop the chapel spire, perused as much of that disgusting material as be could handle, until he ran out of stomach contents to vomit up.

Most of it went over his head, safe to say most all of it, there were too many equations and hideous diagrams to really parse out much, and he dared not sneak any of it out. Giorno was one of a kind and once of a kind, about seventy-five years old give or take according to the dates and had the attributes of both vampire and human. Dhamphir was a close match, the union of human and vampire but was still just a dead bloodsucker with more humanistic ideals. Giorno was very much alive. A homunculus came close too- an artificial human that breathed and ate and was alive, but hollow like a doll, impressionable. Giorno was neither hollow or impressionable. The notes proved to be rather useless in terms of describing what the blond was, or his needs, and the subject himself was even less unhelpful about it.

The breaking point came during the evening, after a particularly longing look at Mista's exposed wrist.

"Giorno," Mista sighed low, "I know you are hungry. Talk to me."

Guilt flashed across the blond's face, replaced by feigned innocence, "we ate not long ago."

He knew this conversation would be tough, but refused to get testy, at least for now, "you know that's not what I meant."

Giorno got up and stoked the fire in the hearth, completely unnecessary and likely a move to try and stall, evade, fidget until the topic was dropped, not that Mista would let him, "I don't know what you mean."

Lies, boldfaced as ever, so it was time to just get to the point, "you drink blood. When was the last time?"

It was a touchy subject that had always been brought up in roundabout ways only to be immediately set back down, the tensing in Giorno's shoulders proof enough of how unprepared he was, "I don't-"

"Answer me, Giorno. I know you do, so tell me how often."

The blond paused, tilted his face back to meet Mista's eyes, fury and disdain burning in pretty blue, "so what? You can feed me some poor villager?"

Livid, Giorno straightened, "any urges are my own, and I refuse to act on them. I will not cause any more suffering. I will continue to go without."

Self-righteous bullshit had always pissed Mista off and Giorno was missing the point. Not to mention assuming he'd capture villagers to feed to him? He didn't even know what to say, he was too angry, too disgusted at the thought, the implication-

Where words wouldn't cut it, action, and a knife would. Mista unsheathed his knife with one hand and snatched Giorno's empty mug from table with a sharp movement that got the blond's bristling attention. What held it- as Mista knew it would- was the knife edge slicing a deep line across a tan wrist, blood dribbling out in a mild stream, filling the cup halfway before beginning to slow to a trickle as the blood clotted. The shift in Giorno's stance was instant; wary and alert switching to a hungry yearning, blue eyes wide and focused entirely on red, Adams apple bobbing as he reflexively swallowed.

Anger slipped to nervous uncertainty, but Mista was committed- to both this... experiment or whatever, and to Giorno. Setting the dripping blade down gently on the table, the ex-hunter picked up the mug with his clean hand, stepping slow to offer it to the blond. The movement seemed to snap the blond out of his daze, startling him back a step, eyes still drawn to the blade and Mista's seeping wrist, before settling on the mug being offered from an outstretched arm. There were protests, he could see them forming on a pale face, but they couldn't quite make it past pink lips or leave the pinker tongue darting out to wet them.

"Go on, Giorno."

Blue flicked up then back, still so unsure, disbelieving, so Mista continued, "it's okay, take it."

Scarred alabaster shook as they reached, grasping the mug like it was a holy goblet, reverence mixed with desire and such hunger-

Heart-stopping as Mista watched him tentatively tip the mug filled with his lifeblood to his lips and drink a sip at first, until ravenous need overtook him, swallowing down furiously and quick. Euphoria was painted across his face, a shiver of ecstasy coursing down his frame as his tongue chased the red straying from his lips to his chin.

Erotic.

That's how it looked.

Erotic and Mista was transfixed until a particularly sharp throb in his wrist drew his attention back down the lazily oozing slit on his wrist. Stitches were easy, and Giorno calmed down quickly, but the blond still slept with his mouth to Mista's neck.

He never did say how long it would be until he got hungry again.

The thin gash on his wrist had already healed by the time the looks returned, turning a nice brownish pink to join the others on his arm as Giorno struggled to express his hunger. He clearly didn't want to ask, probably hated to, but Mista knew what to expect now, knew what to look for. He went close to three months and that was doable, far less often than a true vampire or even a damphir. The slit on his wrist was reopened again, and again, months passing in a blur of peaceful simplicity.

Occasionally a preacher would come by and Giorno would have to hide, but the visits were infrequent and usually fairly short, just curious holy-men asking about things better left in the past. They often asked if he lived alone, if he had found any survivors of Dio Brando's tyranny, if he found anything interesting in the keep; his answer was always yes, no, nothing at all. He had never lied to a clergyman before, but it got easier each time, and each untruth weighed a little less heavy than the last.

Mista enjoyed his freedom, his cottage and the things in it, his companion. They had only gotten closer, tangling easily as the days passed, already sharing so much. Giorno was easy to read in that he was difficult to read- in a backwards way. He had masks with tiny chips, strange habits he slipped into like old shoes, an infallible aura that hid his trembles and unsteadiness. Giorno was broken in strange places, not entirely whole in others, and not a naturally honest person.

He was deeply scared of the dark, would panic at having too many walls, feeling encased. Hated loud sounds and too fast movement. He cried when anything died, cared too much with no real outlet, like water held in a dam. He was oddly cold and distant despite this; warm to the touch and always nearby yet untouchable. Not aloof but... something else further away. He was wary and secretive, but months of patience and care opened him up, and Mista was rewarded with carefully given scraps, as if he gave too much he might unravel. He smiled with his eyes more than his lips, and talked more with his hands than his mouth. He was unobservant in odd ways, would miss easily noticeable things but would hyper-fixate on the smallest of changes. He wore guilt like a shroud, hidden under a calm veneer of confidence and certainty, righteousness that mourned every loss and shortcoming along the way.

Mista loved him dearly, told him sometimes in the dark, whispered despite there being no one for miles that would see them tucked up against each other. Giorno would do the same, using his hands if he couldn't get out the words, using his lips to speak them without sound when he thought Mista was asleep.

The blood from the cut started to not be enough.

Three months became two and a half, became two.

He didn't know why and Giorno was ashamed. Anybody else wouldn't be able to tell, the blond's shoulders were just as squared, back just as straight, eyes bright and forward. But he would lapse sometimes- never held eye contact for long, face settling into more of a frown rather than a neutral resting pout. It was like him to take his inability to keep going for more than two months as a personal affront, but it didn't really solve anything.

Mista had a scant few ideas on how to fix it, and most of the ones he did have were promising in theory but terrifying in practice. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about trying his most prospective idea out, so much so that Giorno went a painful two and a half months before he relented. Giorno never complained, not for the whole time, but there was shaking, a deep lethargy, and a confused weakness settling in his hands and mind. Mista's shame outweighed his anxiety, and in the evening he rolled up the sleeve to his disfigured and mangled arm and grabbed the knife. Giorno's medicine worked perfectly and did nothing cosmetic, but it was a small price to pay.

Seeing the knife and exposed arm had the blond perking up unconsciously, but there was no cup this time. The knife was a pretty silver thing, one he had brought with him to the keep. His pistol had long been interred in some church and he used a game hunters crossbow now anyway. But the knife didn't touch his wrist, just held loosely in his hand as Mista stretched his wrist over to the confused blond, curled up in a wicker chair to hide his hungry trembles. Blue eyes glanced at his scarred wrist then back up, questioning, uncertain, a glimmer of fear lurking behind dulled fire.

Mista was scared too, squared his shoulders anyway, "we're tryin' somethin' new."

"Are you sure?"

Mista was never less sure in his life, was terrified of what was about to happen, what he might have to do, what might happen if it worked- but Giorno needed to know none of that.

So Mista went for casual, feigned a steady voice, "absolutely positive."

Giorno didn't believe him for a second, and to be fair Mista didn't believe himself either, but repeating lies enough times made them truths, or something along those lines. Sky blue eyes watched Mista's face as his pale hands touched his wrist, gentle and cautious, like a wild animal being offered food. The imagery was not far from the mark. Slow and without breaking eye contact, a tan wrist was raised up to plush lips, opening to reveal long canines with menacing hooked tips.

Mista's heart was already pounding hard, but the sight made it lurch into a harsh staccato as adrenaline poured into his blood. No doubt Giorno could hear and feel it, and morbidly Mista wondered if it might effect the taste. That soft pink tongue came out instead, licking a wet line above the ugly scar in an oddly soothing way before the teeth came down, popping two punctures into the vein of his wrist. The hooks tore through flesh in a painful yet dulled way- like his head was supplying the pain that he knew should be there. That all was lost though, in the wake of retracting teeth and an eager mouth sucking and licking bronze skin.

His wrist was rapidly becoming sensitive, like the skin of his inner thigh or behind his ears after too much attention, and it had him panting for breath as sudden arousal burned through him fast and hot. Giorno drinking his blood from a cup was erotic, but this was... charged, distinctly sexual feeling in a strange and impossible way. The sensations were becoming too much, and his grip on the silver knife tightened reflexively, he should stop-

Giorno licked once, twice, picked up some stray drops before pulling back on his own, pale cheeks pinked, red dripping and smeared across his mouth. His eyes were half-lidded lost in utter bliss as he cleaned his fingers and chin like a cat. The puncture wounds were already closing, fading into odd little raised bumps, completely innocuous unless you searched well. The burning fire in his gut hadn't subsided at all, an unnameable desire for something that Mista had no idea how to express.

Giorno though, flicked those heavy eyes up at him, leaping up faster than Mista could track in his current hazy state, meshed their lips together in a coppery, possessive, biting kiss. The fiery urge screamed in triumphant ecstasy, crying 'yes, this, this is what I want', and Mista moved to kiss away the tang of blood with a urgency of his own, walking them over to fall onto the bed.

The heat was sweltering throughout the night, ebbing as slow as the passionate drive that held his mind and body, leaving him tired yet satisfied and drained yet fulfilled. It was five- almost six months before Giorno even began to show signs of hunger again, and feeding from the wrist got easier. It was hard to be afraid of the process as he did it more since it felt so impossibly good.

Time continued to pass, the church visited less, Father Buccelati stopped by when letters became too infrequent, the chickens continued to lay, and a calf was born. Winters and summers passed by in a steady cycle. Mista grew broader, stronger, but his joints began to ache with the cold and in storms while Giorno remained unchanged. His wrists got worse- whether from years of sharpshooting and hunting or what they didn't know, but when it came time for Giorno to eat, they hurt too much and the blond refused to add any extra pain.

It seemed feeble to the former hunter, there was no longer anything remotely painful about Giorno's fangs, but the blond insisted and said he'd wait until the chill let up. It was a harsh winter though, and the chill hurt the bones in his arms, the old fractures in his ribs aching with the frigid air in his lungs. Distantly Mista wondered if maybe he had gotten old somehow despite being so young still. Giorno was sympathetic if a little bit... overbearing, he took the ex-hunter's health incredibly serious, despite it just being some aches. It became too much too quick, thoughtful long since turned into an oppressively stifling blanket, compounded by the rapid deterioration of Giorno's endurance.

When his shaking hands dropped his favorite mug full of warm tea for the former hunter, crashing it to pieces, Mista had enough. Giorno was offered a neck, graciously and gently taken, and the fire burned hotter than ever before. Pain was forgotten for a brief few days, instead an intoxicating yearning took its place. Giorno took care of that too.

Six months turned to over a year, long enough for Mista to lose track, to no longer care. He'd grown to love the press of fangs, and idly wondered if that was the fate of all who fell prey to vampires and their ilk. He lost the ability to care about that too, he had earned what he had set out to earn, gained something unexpected, and ended up dedicating everything to it.

It was late, too late, he hadn't thought to ask until so much time had passed he lost count when he finally asked Giorno to stay with him. Giorno smiled down at him, cupped his cheeks and kissed his forehead, promised him he would stay forever.

#giomis fanfic #Vampire hunter guido mista

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ohmytheon · 6 years

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title: Something Borrowed, Something Red

pairing: Bakugou/Ochako, Jirou/Momo, and basically whatever you want to infer

summary: Bakugou hates weddings and all the things that go with it and plans on never attending one ever again. So when two of his former classmates get engaged, it’s annoying as hell that all of his friends conspire against him and someone keeps…floating into his head whether he likes it or not.

– Chap 2: It’s hard to avoid bachelorette parties when your friends trick you. Even harder to not be an idiot when you chug a bunch of alcohol.

notes: This is where things start to get messy. I swear I didn't mean for the Kirishima/Bakugou vibes, but what can you do? Also, writing jealous!Bakugou shouldn't make me laugh this much, but I'm a terrible person. Uraraka is just trying to have a good time and he's ready for someone to die. Shoot, it might be him at this point.

Chapter Two: Bachelorette Parties are for Idiots

The bachelorette party was where Bakugou fucked up. He wasn’t going to go -- a bachelorette party sounded about as fun as fighting barehanded and quirkless with a chainsaw -- and no one even asked him anyways. Jirou knew better than to ask him, so despite the fact that she was dumb enough to get married, she was somewhat smart. But then Kirishima and Sero kept bothering him about going out with them on a Friday night for once since he was always working or busy training and Bakugou caved. It would do good to blow off some steam. Bakugou didn’t burn the candle at both ends; he blew the candle up. One night off wouldn’t be terrible.

Or maybe it would be.

When he walked into the bar and saw a bunch of their other old classmates, most notably the girls, he quickly realized that it was Jirou’s bachelorette party. Bakugou was fucking livid and almost flipped out, rounding on them with clenched fists. “Are you shitting me?”

Kirishima held up his hands. “In our defense, we never said why we wanted to go out tonight.”

“I’m not doing this,” Bakugou said flatly, already making a move to push past them and leave. But then both of them got in his way and barred him from the door. “Move it!”

“No way,” Sero replied. Tape boy actually told him no! Bakugou was starting to see red.

“C’mon, dude,” Kirishima said, slinging an arm over Bakugou’s shoulder and pulling him close. “One drink. Then you can go sulk at home alone. I’ll even pay for it.”

Bakugou let out his old “tch” but didn’t argue any further. One drink wouldn’t kill him. Besides, he was already here. Might as well. From her spot in between Ashido and Tsuyu, Jirou raised her eyebrow and gave him a look that asked, What are you doing here?, so Bakugou scowled and jerked his head in the direction of the two grinning idiots trailing behind him. She nodded her head in understanding and gave him a somewhat apologetic if not amused look. She clearly wasn’t that sorry.

Neither was Kirishima, whose “one drink” turned into two drinks where a shot had to be dropped into a beer and chugged, just the kind of drink that gave the most punch. And when Kirishima dared him that he couldn’t possibly handle another so close in succession, Bakugou dug the money out of his pocket and threw it on the bar demanding for a two more, except instead of giving one to Kirishima, Bakugou slammed both back.

Kirishima pounded him on the back and let out a cheer, “Looks like someone came to rock!”

Bakugou wiped some of the beer foam off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aren’t you going to tell me how manly that was?”

“As long as you don’t puke,” Kirishima quipped in a lower voice.

Bakugou growled, but said nothing. His stomach was rock solid. If he could handle half of the amount of spicy shit he ingested, he could handle this. Behind them, Sero let out whoop whoop! and everyone cheered. A flare of pride burst in Bakugou’s chest as he turned around and leaned back against the bar where he stayed for a while as the alcohol slowly began to burn its way through his system.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, the alcohol told him. Have a few more. Maybe only light a few drinks on fire. Have some fun.

It was a terrible decision.

An hour later, Bakugou was sipping on a beer, realizing that even he had to slow down after effectively knocking back six drinks in less than seven minutes. Luckily he’d eaten two large meals today as he had to in order to make up for the carbs he burned, but he had to reign his ego in check before he overdid it. Kirishima’s warning sat in the back of his head like a timer.

It was at this time, of course, right when he was feeling pretty good about himself that Uraraka appeared, as if the crowd parted like the sea for her. Bakugou almost downed the rest of his beer, but caught himself last minute. What was wrong with him? So what if she was in a cute pink dress? So what if it made her equally pink cheeks and big brown eyes stand out even more?

Bakugou shook his head. Fucking alcohol. It got him good. Those drinks had been stronger than he’d expected. He had a feeling Kirishima had known exactly what he was doing. Cheeky bastard.

He forced the focus back in himself, which only meant that he zeroed in on Uraraka like a missle searching for its target. She was walking directly towards him, but she hadn’t noticed him, her head turned as she spoke with Ashido, who had rushed up to greet Uraraka upon her late arrival. She’d still been at the office when he’d left to go home and shower, her nose deep in a file and the thoughtful frown on her face even deeper.

And then, like in slow motion (but it was really the alcohol’s doing, making him feel hazy, fucking Kirishima), Uraraka turned her head and she spotted him, her eyes widening and turning bright as one of the flashing lights on the bar struck her. Even worse was the smile that spread across her face. It was fucking blinding. What the absolute shit? He just barely managed to catch himself from saying that out loud.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Uraraka exclaimed, always the explosion of positivity. “You weren’t on the invite.”

“Our dear Bakugou won’t come to these kinds of things if he knows about them,” Kirishima pointed out.

Ashido snickered at Uraraka’s side. “I knew Kirishima and Sero would get you here somehow.” Of course she had been behind it. She and Kirishima had probably been plotting this whole time. “You can’t avoid this wedding!”

“I can,” Bakugou drawled, “and I will.”

Not deterred in the slightest, Ashido stuck a tongue out at him and then flounced away, practically glowing in the flashing lights of the club like a lava lamp. Her skin and eyes had a dizzying effect so that he had to look away if she moved too quickly. What had been in those drinks? He should’ve asked before acting like they were protein shakes.

“Well, I’m glad you came,” Uraraka said decisively. “You could use a break. You’re always working!”

“I want to get to the top unlike some people, Round Face,” Bakugou said as he leaned in close and sneered, not sure where the words had come from.

Back in the day, Uraraka might’ve shrank away from him or even turned red in the face, be it in anger or embarrassment. It was not that day anymore. Instead, she fixed him with a look that was both determined and frustratingly patient as she put her hands on her hips. “And some people are going to do that without being an ass.”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes at her, but she didn’t back down and he didn’t move either. Not until someone coughed beside them did they pull away from each other, as if they’d been physically torn apart. When she looked away from him, her face screwed up in minor consternation, he thought her cheeks might’ve been pinker, but that could’ve been the lights as well.

Taking another swig of his beer, Bakugou turned sideways to half-face the bar, but glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you want a drink?”

Uraraka’s face whipped back to him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Bakugou snapped, feeling impatient and jittery. The beer was not helping.

“I mean…” Uraraka eyed him suspiciously, like maybe he was planning on pouring hot sauce in her drink or something when she wasn’t looking if he got her one. “Sure.” As she made to stand right behind him, Kirishima took a step to the side as he reached over to smack Sato in the back of the head and laugh. It gave her the room to squeeze next to Bakugou in a spot at the bar -- but not enough room so that she wasn’t pressed up against his side. She didn’t seem to notice. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou grumbled. Because it was totally normal to buy a coworker a drink seconds after arguing them. He bought Kirishima drinks after arguing with him. “What do you want?”

Uraraka leaned forward to get a closer look at what was behind the bar and Bakugou made the mistake of looking over at her. His eyes travelled down the length of her body, all the way down her back to her ass and the one foot that she was holding up for balance. He thought about pointing out that if she activated her quirk she could see better, but she kept one foot on the ground.

“Maybe a glass of red wine?”

Bakugou snorted. “Fuck that. You’re playing catch up with the rest of us. It’s hardball or nothing.”

Uraraka made a face at him, but she didn’t look angry. It was more teasing. “Then you pick.”

It was the worst thing she could’ve said. An almost evil smirk slid onto his face. “Don’t come crawling back to me whining when you’re so fucked up that you can’t find your shoes or your purse.” The try me look on Uraraka’s face had him close to laughing, but he got the bartender’s attention and ordered her two drinks. She raised an eyebrow when the rather girly-looking concoctions were slid in front of her. “Top shelf -- only the best for you, Pink Cheeks.”

The look on her face wasn’t so daring now, a hint of hesitation in it, so her question, “What is it?” wasn’t all that unexpected. Bakugou just shrugged his shoulders in response. With much trepidation, she tasted the drink and then her eyes lit up again. “Oh! This is good. I like it.”

“Great,” Bakugou said, practically burning with anticipation. “Now stop sipping and start chugging.”

Uraraka glared at him, but then took a huge breath and just went for it. Honestly, the way she looked right now should be positively illegal and it was doing a horrible number of things for him as they stared each other down. She really should’ve looked away -- he should’ve looked away -- but they were both locked on. Within fifteen seconds, the first drink was gone and she set it down with a hard slam. A slight wave of dizziness came over her for a second, like when she used too much of her quirk on herself, but then she picked up her second drink.

“Do I have to chug this one too?” she asked.

Bakugou shrugged his shoulders. “Do whatever you want. It’s your drink.”

The look of shock on her face was priceless. For a brief moment, he thought that she might actually throw the drink in his face, but then she lowered her lips to the straw and began to drink, much slower this time. There was a certain fire in her eyes that reminded him of the explosions in his hands, but she said nothing. Without saying another word, she turned around and headed in the direction of Jirou and the other girls, putting her back to him and out of her line of vision, but he didn’t look away until he felt a nudge in his side.

“You know,” Kirishima said, “it’s really not manly to take advantage of drunk girls.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bakugou snapped, but Kirishima just laughed, pat him on the back, and then walked away to join the others as well. Bakugou folded his arms across his chest and glowered. Like he would take advantage of anyone like that. One) it was stupid; two) it wasn’t worth it; and three) he didn’t need to. Besides, he had a feeling Uraraka got feisty when she got too drunk. It would be just like her.

Unfortunately, as Bakugou learned later on, a drunk Uraraka also liked to dance. She was kind of mesmerizing. She was more graceful than she used to be, if only because she’d learned it while using her quirk on herself more and more. This wouldn’t have been a problem (and it wasn’t one to begin with) if she didn’t look so damn cute in that outfit. Okay, so maybe he had lied when he’d told Kirishima that she wasn’t. He could objectively admit that she was attractive without it meaning anything.

But apparently so could other people while meaning it and he really hadn’t thought this through. One second she was dancing with the girls and the next some guy out of left field was dancing all over her.

Bakugou’s laser-like focus clocked the guy like a plane locking on a target. He was older than them by a few years, but he looked like one of those dumb pretty boys. Uraraka could probably throw his ass to the moon and she really should have when the guy touched hers while they were dancing.

“Yo, earth to Bakugou!” a voice shouted right in his ear. If not for Kirishima’s fast reflexes and know-how of Bakugou’s fighting style (and maybe the alcohol in Bakugou’s system slowing his down), he would’ve been elbowed right in the face, but he was able to dodge the blow. “Are you okay? You look, uh, like you’re about to explode?”

“What!” Bakugou shouted right back. “No I’m not!”

Kirishima waved his hands in the air. “Hey, don’t yell at me! I’m just trying to figure out why you went from not pissed off to pure rage in like three seconds.”

“I have to take a piss,” Bakugou ground out before storming away from his designated spot in the bar.

He could’ve gone around the dance floor, like any normal person would, but instead he walked right through, shoving his way so brusquely that peopled stumbled back when he hit them with his swinging arms. He didn’t care. By the time he reached where Uraraka was, she was turning around -- was she talking to that guy? -- but she caught sight of him. There must have been something in his eyes because she stepped back without hesitation. The guy was not so fortunate. Bakugou shoved into his chest so forcefully to get through that the guy went flailing backwards on his ass and let out the most undignified squeal.

Knowing full well that Uraraka would probably berate him, Bakugou didn’t look back, but he thought he heard something that sounded like, “Wait--” and a faint brush of fingertips swiping at his arm, both of which he ignored. He kept on walking until he made it to the bathroom and then slammed the door so hard that everyone else that had been in line didn’t even bother fighting over him cutting.

Shit, he needed to get out of here. He hated shit like this. He hated feeling like this. It was why he didn’t drink often. He didn’t like the feeling of being clouded -- of being out of control. Because while everyone had always assumed that he was just a loose canon -- and yes, maybe he was at times -- Bakugou had learned very early on that a lot of his quirk depended on control or all hell would break loose.

All he could think about was that guy’s hands on her. How he’d gripped her hips and pulled her back into him and while she might have tensed up at first she had let him. The guy’s fingers had practically sank into her skin. And he didn’t care -- he didn’t give a shit -- but for a second, Bakugou had wondered what she would feel like against him and in his hands, if she was as soft as she looked, if he could feel the strength of her muscles under her skin, if she was as warm as he was. He’d hated it and felt like blowing something up.

But it wasn’t his fault, he reasoned, that he felt like this right now. It’s Uraraka’s. He didn’t know why though. That was just what the alcohol told brain.

It was time to leave -- or then he’d really be uninvited to a wedding that he wasn’t going to attend.

#katsuki bakugou #ochako uraraka #kacchako #bakuraka #bnha #mha #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta #mina ashido #boku no hero academia #anime #my hero academia #something red fic #kacchaco #kacchako fanfic #bnha fanfiction

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failaise · 7 years

Text

past lives | park jimin

summary: reincarnation was sweet with the promise of immortal love

a/n: some mature themes; also, i’m sure this has been done before (i haven’t seen one for jimin), so if there are any similarities between this and another reincarnation fic, it’s purely coincidental!

based off close to you by the carpenter’s (reneé dominque cover)

That sweet scent of cream and cheese hung in the air, a daunting reminder of the hunger that settled in your stomach. You stood before an arrangement in a floral shop, suddenly overcome with a sudden desire to consume as many doughnuts as you could fit in your mouth. Eyeing the vivid violet carnations and its statue of Buddha which sat poised in the middle, you turned around to the worker and quickly bought a single carnation; it would look pretty in a vase by your apartment’s window.

Stepping out onto the bustling street, you turned your eyes up to the lights beginning to flicker on. The sun’s absence sent fourth and sixth avenue into a Christmas-themed frenzy and you hugged your jacket close to your body, the flower hidden in your inside coat pocket. Tugging your beanie onto your head, you sniffed the air again for that delightful scent, and followed the direction from which a woman with a croissant had marched from.

The shop stood like a beacon across the road. Its lights were bright and gold, sparkling like some kind of elaborate jewel. The name “Jordan’s Delights” was sprawled across the front in glittering cursive letters. Eager, you waited for the pedestrian symbol to flash on, and hurried in its wake.

The line, surprisingly, wasn’t as long as you thought it might’ve been. Sure, it was out the door, but in New York that was to be expected. This shop had probably been featured on some Buzzfeed article, what with its doughnuts decorated in arrangements of cereal, candy, and anything else you could’ve been craving at the moment. Your stomach grumbled impatiently and you placed a hand on it, softly mumbling for it to shut up under your breath.

The line moved and moved until you’d reached the front. Excitedly, you rattled off a dozen doughnuts for one of the shop’s classy gold boxes. As you handed your money to the cashier, who you hadn’t very much paid attention to, you found yourself admiring the purple emblem on the box.

You finally looked up at whoever had been handling your quick, excited words.

Staring back at you were the brownest eyes you’d ever seen.

They were like chocolate, or coffee, or any other delicious thing colored the same. Framed in long, dark lashes, fluttering like butterflies against his skin. Soft, pink cheeks scrunched up; even pinker lips fell into a stunned daze at your presence. The man’s cocoa-colored hair looked perfectly touchable, slightly disheveled and rustled around his brows. He had what had to be the most flawless face structure in the entire world.

He must’ve thought your staring was intrusive, because he didn’t speak, but just looked flabbergasted at the sight of you.

“O-Oh,” you took your change from his palm. Your fingertips grazed his calloused ones, something like static sparking between them. You jerked your arm back quickly and shoved the money into your pocket.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from him. Box in hand, your booted feet practically ran for the door, hoping to dismiss the entire awkward situation (and the handsome man) for good.

Standing at the cash register, the man gulped, eyes wide in shock. He could barely hear any more, and was suddenly aware of every pound on his body. Feet sinking into the blue-and-gold tile, he gripped the counter for fear of falling over. The customer before him said something but his ears weren’t working. His brain had become overwhelmed with flashbulb memories; smiles, laughter, those eyes, love, warmth. He could see the person before him, but not the person before him; you held his hand and he held yours. He could see those eyes of yours, glistening at him from across an aisle, veiled in white. Children- there’d been children.

The person he’d spent his life searching for, trying to forget- you were here now, before him and unaware and just as beautiful as you’d been thirty years ago, all wrinkled and tired.

“I-I.” the man looked up at the customer with saucers for eyes. He meant to apologize but the words wouldn’t form- and you were leaving, walking so fast down the sidewalk, turning into an alley, leaving him. He couldn’t wait another second.

Running around from behind the counter, the apron around his hips came undone and Park Jimin ran after you. Puddles under his feet splashed up on the socks around his ankles, cold and alarming and he suddenly remembered he only had on a button up and dress pants.

“Wait!” He found his voice again. Jimin stopped when he caught your attention, your back turned to traffic and confusion written across his face. “Wh-what’s your name?”

He knew your name. No matter your face, your gender, your sex, your race- your name had never changed.

You spoke it. And Jimin had been right.

It was you.

“I’m sorry,” you blushed furiously, eyes trying to avoid the sternness in his, “...do I know you?”

Jimin’s cheeks had grown a bright pink now. The cold nipped at the tip of his nose and he tried to ignore winter’s bite. Taking a step forward, he blinked, admiring the shape of your lips, the color of your eyes. “Oh,” he breathed, voice heavy, “I... I suppose not.”

You looked at him now. He seemed familiar, but you were sure this was the first time you were seeing this face- you’d have remembered if it had appeared beforehand. And it was curious to see how this man seemed saddened by the obvious knowledge that the two of you were strangers. His lips had curled downwards, eyes heavy with histories you couldn’t have known of.

And Jimin had known that you wouldn’t know him- not if he knew you. It was the terrible past of this curse and blessing; one was born with the memories of centuries’ old love, and one was born with a mind slated blank. It was rare that the two of you were born with the knowledge of your past and maybe, just maybe, Jimin had been hoping that you knew him, too.

“Is your favorite color still blue?” He suddenly asked.

Your eyes grew wide with shock. “How.. did you know that?”

Jimin was torn. Should he tell you, and risk scaring you for however many years? Or should he wait, let you fall in love with him all over again, and experience the hurt of your forgetfulness?

“I know a lot of things,” he replied, voice laced with sadness and somberness.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned at him and turned on the heel of your shoe. He was handsome, unbearably so, but his oddness was becoming concerning and now you yourself had become concerned with getting home. He called after you but you looked away, hurrying for the streetlight. It flashed green and you took that as a sign, rushing into the road, but-

Coldness had overwhelmed you. You felt your head slam into the ground, something inside you snap, and an unbearable pain flood through your bones. Burning rubber and the sound of screeching tires filled your senses. Suddenly you were freezing, in the middle of a puddle on your side, unable to think or breathe.

That stranger dropped to his knees before you, nearly slipping out of his haste to run after you. He skidded to a stop and, with eyes more painful than yours, hurried to find the source of your bleeding.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Jimin whispered, cradling your head in his lap. The rain was falling on him, soaking his hair and causing his shirt to cling to the texture off his skin. People were beginning to gather around you and he yelled for someone to call an ambulance. Apologies flooded in your direction, from whoever had been in the driver’s seat, but you were overcome with the knowledge of something else.

You’d seen those chocolate eyes before. Concerned, like this. You could feel pain between your legs and comforting words and then- a baby’s cry. You could see these eyes hurrying into a restroom after your escapade with blades, full of the same pain they were in now. And then they were different- warm and happy, glistening over at you from a nearby pillow. They were above you, filled with lust, then in a kitchen, filled with anger and venomous words.

You knew him, didn’t you?

“It’s okay, shhh..... shhh,” he brushed your damp hair from your bleeding forehead, breath shaking and stopping when his fingers became colored with crimson.

“I’m...” you tried to form the words, your tongue wet with burgundy. A cough cut you off and you wanted to apologize immediately for how your blood splattered his immaculate face, wanted to crawl up and cry from the tightness in your chest.

“Please,” Jimin whimpered from above you, pulling your numb body closer to his side. “Please don’t go.”

The sound of his voice like that tore your heart apart, more than any vehicle could. You swallowed the vomit in your throat and stared up at him. No matter how he’d returned to you, he was always breathtaking like this; always the spitting image of an angel.

The Christmas lights began to blur around him. A halo of gold lit up his frame, outlining him in vividness, in a fog and haze resembling a glowing cloud. Your shaking fingers reached up to stroke his cheeks, soft and warm in this form, like pillows under the cradling nature of your palm.

“I...” you smiled, which must’ve been a sight, what with your bloody teeth and torn lips, “I found you.”

A choked sob escaped his throat. He dropped his head and held you close, tears streaming fast and hot down his face. “No,” Jimin whispered, a broken voice of hurt and pain, “I just found you.. I-I just got you back. W-We just m-”

“I know,” you smiled softly up at him. The pain was gone, replaced with cold and a numbing sensation.

Jimin let out another sob, a loud cry out into the sky, at whatever God or Gods had cursed the two of you to an eternity of search.

That nagging want for sleep pulled at your eyes. You found them heavy, clinging to the image of your soulmate before you, analyzing every stroke of his hair, every curve of his jaw and every twitch in his lips. He was utterly beautiful with that halo of light; an angel shrouded in gold, with eyes full of more pain than any angel should have had to endure.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleaded, pushing his hand onto your forehead, “p-please. The ambulance is-”

“Park Jim-Jimin...” you reached up to cup his hand where it was, a tiny smile on your lips, and words unspoken yet spoken before. The name rolled of your bloodied tongue, caked your lips in that color of life. Those eyes that never changed, those eyes which sparkled at him in past laughter, which glittered with the promise of future love, those eyes which were filled with a warmth no fire could replace.

Those eyes had gone dark, had fallen from Jimin’s face, and your body limp in his arms.

It was then that Jimin saw your coat had torn open. In its pocket, a violet carnation, stained with shimmering crimson.

A violet carnation.

It was the first flower he’d ever plucked for you.

a/n: i wanted to do this so i did and now im sad

154 notes · View notes

so-caffeinated · 7 years

Note

That Ameliam fic yesterday though!!!!!! It was everything! If life was perfect and the story continued, what do you think would have happened for the rest of the day after Will put on a shirt? Would they cancel work and spend the whole day together? Would they go out, and do something fun, maybe go to an amusement park? That's long overdue. Would they go public with their relationship quickly? I want to know everything!

Thank you!!! Oh… in this world… in this world Will doesn’t have to be to work until 6 the next morning. She’s already taken off work because she was coming to Starling. She took off a full week. Will does go to work the next day but only because he can’t find someone to swap shifts with so fast. He manages it for the other days he’s working - calls in more than a few favors - but he doesn’t even question if that’s worth it. It is.

The rest of that first morning is so easy. She makes them both coffee while he goes to find real clothes. She’s rummaging around his cabinets for mugs by the time he gets back and it’s sort of amazing how overwhelmed he is just at the sight of her making herself at home in his kitchen. There’s an ‘Ah ha!’ from her as she finds his mugs and she’s adorably proud of herself as she pours him some coffee - getting his preference right exactly (splash of milk, no sugar, dash of cinnamon… she pays attention too) - a smiling widely as she turns to hand it to him. It’ll wind up being the best damned coffee he’s ever had but her presence way surpasses it. He takes the mug, sets it down and cups her face with his hands before kissing her long and slow. It sets a wild thrill through him that he can do this now, that she wants him to… that this is who they are. She groans and grips the collar of his shirt as she kisses him back and he absolutely cannot believe that this is his life. That he’s this lucky. They wind up parting on a happy little hum from her and they just stand there a moment, smiling and nose-to-nose as they soak in each other’s presence.

They drink their coffee together at the little kitchen table, sitting side-by-side, close enough their thighs brush against each other and he can - and does - turn to kiss her shoulder between sips whenever the mood strikes him (Often. It strikes him often). When the coffee’s gone it becomes pretty clear they’ll wind up making out on the sofa all day if they let themselves and while that seems like a pretty fantastic idea to both of them, they also do want to spend time getting to know each other better and figuring out who they are together. For that, they both realize, they kinda have to get out of the condo.

Lunch in the park feels like a pretty perfect idea - it’s intimate but still public; it’s not noisy and it gives them a great opportunity to talk. They’re early enough getting there to catch the tail end of the farmer’s market. It’s funny, really, how easy and domestic this all seems, but Amelia laughing as she steals blueberries from the container he bought might be one of the most entrancing things he’s ever seen. They spend hours on a blanket shaded by trees from the bright July sunshine, snacking on fresh bread with cheese, perfectly ripe berries and peaches, surprisingly crisp sugar snap peas and a bottle of local wine they swig directly from the bottle. (”You know that’s illegal, right? Drinking in the park?” she asks him. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he replies with a wink. That’s when he learns how very easily she’ll melt if he winks at her. Too bad he hadn’t known that years ago).

Topics range from shared memories to college dating disasters, from losing a parent to playing wingman for friends. He’s halfway into a story about the time Beth decided she was secretly a mermaid and flooded his bathroom when she kisses him and doesn’t stop. The wine long gone and leftover food forgotten, they lie on that blanket in the grass just kissing, entwined together in a way that’s both intimate and innocent all at once for forever.

Or at least it feels blissfully like forever at the time.

They’ll count it as a minor miracle later that the paparazzi didn’t bust them that afternoon, but they don’t. No, that takes about three weeks, surprisingly, which is good because they’ll have a bit of a routine by then, be slightly further down the path together. Today is just about them.

They don’t get up until the sun shifts in the afternoon and they lose the shade of their tree. He helps Amelia up and he doesn’t let go of her hand, staring at her as his thumb smooths back and forth across her skin. A couple old enough to be his grandparents walking nearby smile knowingly at him but he barely notices them. Amelia has the whole of his attention.

A leisurely afternoon of window shopping - complete with making up absurd stories about the people browsing the high end boutiques and over-wrought salespeople assisting them - soon follows. They joke and laugh and bond and even if they really aren’t doing much of anything, Will’s hard pressed to remember the last time he enjoyed himself so much. So, when she says she should get going he’s hugely, vastly disappointed.

“To get ready,” she grins, buoying him immeasurably. “I have a hot dinner date in a bit, after all.”

The kiss he gives her after that is a little on the indecent side for public, but he honestly doesn’t give a damn.

He drops her off at her friend Celeste’s place. The curtains flutter and he’s pretty sure they’re being watched. When he kisses her with no hint of reservation, hungry and wanting and free, the pair of very loud squeaks from inside confirm that thought pretty definitively. Amelia’s beautifully dazed when they part, her lips swollen and cheeks pink as her eyes shine with a dazed but lusty look.

Leaving her to get ready for their date, even though he’ll be back in two hours to pick her up again, takes more willpower than he’d thought he had. But he does.

He can’t stop smiling the whole way home.

Name-dropping isn’t something Will does. Ever. But he makes an exception tonight, calling Felicity’s favorite restaurant for reservations that probably were booked a month ago. He doesn’t need to do that. He knows it. Amelia isn’t expecting anything that swanky and he has the distinct impression that she doesn’t care at all where they go. But he wants to do this for her, wants their night to be memorable.

And it is.

Celeste and Maggie are both hanging around when he comes back to pick up Amelia. Celeste openly whistles at his well-tailored three-piece suit. “Damned if you don’t clean up, Will Queen,” Maggie notes approvingly. Amelia strides into the room a moment later, stopping dead in her tracks, still fastening an earring as she soaks him in.

Her cheeks turn pinker and she licks her lips as she watches him and Will finds he has to stuff his hands in his pockets and swallow back the words he wants to say before he does something stupid like tell her he’s been in love with her for forever.

“I’m… I’m… I’m under-dressed,” she finally manages, rubbing at her neck like she’s remembering the feel of his mouth on her skin. It would make sense. He knows he sure is.

“You’re perfect,” he promises her. The dress she’s wearing is probably one she’s worn a dozen times for work, but it’s beautiful on her and the jewelry dresses it up. So do the shoes, even if they do make her taller than him. He’s surprised to find he doesn’t mind that idea in the least. He sort of loves that they’re eye-level with each other. It makes everything feel more intimate somehow.

“Do lots of things I wouldn’t do, if you can come up with any!” Celeste says cheerily, waving from the doorway as they head out.

Amelia laughs but otherwise ignores her friend, instead tugging on the edge of Will’s collar until he stops and looks at her. She’s kissing him against, pressing a smile against his lips. Her friends are right there, but he doesn’t have the sense that’s why she did it. It’s just… this is new and it’s only been a couple of hours apart but the affirmation that this is still real, that it’s still happening, is something both of them need.

Somehow, they make it to the restaurant on time for their reservation. She protests a bit when she realizes where they’re going and he offers to change plans if she’d be more comfortable - his dad’s favorite burger joint is just around the corner - but she caves and they wind up at Felicity’s favorite place instead.

They touch each other some way or another all through dinner. Her hand on his arm, their knees touching, her fingers twined with his. They can’t seem to stop. They stay a long time, ordering dessert after dinner and drinks after that. They talk about everything. They debate baseball at length, which turns heated at times, and briefly talk politics, which does not. He finds out she did the zombie run a few years ago - the one year he’d missed it - and that her friendship with Celeste and Maggie means a whole lot more to her than he’d assumed. They don’t quite shut the restaurant down, but it’s not far off. She takes a selfie of the two of them before they go and it’ll be one of Will’s favorite pictures for the rest of his life. He’s staring at her like she’s his whole world while she smiles into the camera, both of them illuminated mostly by candlelight.

She sends it to her mom with a note that reads “You were right. My ❤️ did know the right path. Thank you for telling me to listen to it.” Her phone buzzes repeatedly after that but after the first response which was entirely exclamation points, she stops checking it. She does, however, send the picture to him, too. It immediately becomes his contact for her as well as his lock screen. He’ll stare at it like a total dope the entire next day at work - which thank God is a slow one because he’ll get virtually no sleep - and his team will mock the ever-living hell out of him for it. (He won’t care. Nothing will be able to bring him down. He’ll be on cloud nine by then).

Dropping her off that night is hard, doubly so since she suggests she could just stay with him. But as tempting as that idea really, really is, they wind up agreeing it’s not the right one for them. Not right now, anyhow.

But she’ll be at his apartment when he gets off work at 6 am the morning after next, they decide before he kisses her one last time that evening with a spare key to his place in her hand that he never will wind up getting back from her. He heads home alone to a condo that’s still sticky everywhere a six-year-old can reach with Legos still scattered sporadically. It could still be this morning. It could have been just like twelve hours ago before everything in his life changed for the better. But he knows it’s not. Her lipstick stains one of the mugs in his sink and their picture is on his phone and he’s got a hickey on his shoulder that doesn’t look like it’s fading anytime soon. And he’s giddy, God but he’s giddy. It feels like the joy is just bubbling right out of him.

None of that fades over the next day and a half. None of it. And when he gets home from work the morning after next to find Amelia sitting on his counter with coffee brewing next to her and a tablet in her hand as she works remotely on something or other for her office, it looks like rest of his life staring right back at him.

And it’s perfect.

#ameliam #ficon #amelia prescott #will queen #flashfic friday #flashfic

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xiumin-on-this-shit · 7 years

Text

I Am An Alpha Ch 9: The Rest Of The Pack

“So who were those other wolves out there?” I wonder as I peek out behind Kris. The four wolves that had peeked out of the forest have now collected the alpha I fought with and returned to the forest, not before giving me a dirty look. At the same time my other mates appeared their alpha pheromone dominates the air, making me feel like I’m suffocating. The six of us are still standing inside, we had decided to at least go into the living room to let the others catch more of my scent. My hyungs are close by, I can smell them but they must have noticed the new wolves and decided to hang back.

“They are our brother pack,” Kris tells me.

“They must not be too happy that I attacked their pack member are they?”

Yixing growls, “I don’t give a fuck about how they feel, they’re just lucky we didn’t tear him to shreds for touching you.”

I cling to the back of Kris’s shirt when I begin sensing Yixing’s anger, “Hyung.”

“Sorry,” He takes a few deep breaths in a sad attempt to calm himself down.

I glance around, “Where is Baekhyun hyung?”

“He went out to talk to your pack, we were planning on having them here before the others returned but I guess that isn’t going to be happening,” Tao sighs.

Kris groans, running his hands through his hair he decides, “We should do this now, they are going to get mad.”

“Suho and Minseok hyung are already fuming,” Kai clucks his tongue.

“Someone go grab them some clothes, we don’t need them flashing her the first time they meet. Yixing, keep an eye on Chanyeol, I’m expecting him to be the most eager to get closer to her. I’ll keep an eye on Minseok hyung since he might be pretty bad too.”

Kai sets off in search of clothing.

Sehun scoffs, “Are you really going to try and get in between Minseok, Luhan, and Suho hyung and our mate? They are going to fight you hard on that one.”

“How do you think they are going to react to my past and my pack?” I wonder, feeling uneasy about these new mates.

“I didn’t even think about telling them about your past,” Yixing sighs in obvious frustration.

“Let us take this one step at a time, starting with walking out there,” Kris officially decides. “Open the door back up.”

Tao sighs but obeys, he slowly unlatches the door and pushes the massive wall of windows to the side, opening the room to the cold. Kris forces himself to step aside but keeps his arm around my shoulders. My eyes go wide at the sight of six beautiful wolves sitting in the snow. I don’t feel scared as bad as I did yesterday, but it’s still there gripping my heart, ready to send me into panic mode.

“They are so pretty,” I mumble softly, unconsciously reaching out my hand to run it through their fur but I notice and pull my hand back. “Sorry, most alphas probably don’t want to hear that.”

Kris chuckles, “So bashful again aren’t we?”

“Do you want me to start fighting again?” I tease.

“Please no, someone is going to loose it.”

“Can I go touch them?” I look to him for permission, which he gives me with a gentle nudge forward. I take a deep breath and step out onto the cold stone patio. A few more steps and I’m back in the snow, I should have asked for shoes but I’m this far, no going back. Unconsciously I approach one specific wolf, his scent draws me in, coffee. “You are the one who distracted me during the fight,” I note mostly to myself but they hear. The caramel colored wolf looks away from me to glare at the head alpha. “Don’t be mad at him,” I quickly defend, “I was just causing trouble. I tend to do that.” I’m trying my best to be playful but he just continues to glare, actually making Kris gulp. I cock my head, “You must be Minseok hyung.”

His head snaps back to me.

“So is that a yes?”

A nod.

“They actually haven’t told me much about any of you, or the fact that any of you existed but they mentioned a few names. Who is Luhan hyung?” I’m trying so hard to be warm, and I’m actually really impressed with how little my hands are shaking and that my heart hasn’t pounded out of my chest. Hesitantly a pretty auburn wolf comes forward, I give him a small smile and a bow. “And than I think it was Chanyeol hyung?” A silver wolf steps forward, this one with much more excitement, he makes me think of Baekhyun but Baekhyun has a much pinker tint compared to this new wolf. “Who was the scary one you mentioned? Soo hyung?” I nervously scan the three other wolves, none of them look particularly scary in fact one stands out to me. His big eyes lock with mine making my heart melts. “So cute!”

Jongin sees me take a few steps toward the wolf, “That is Kyungsoo hyung, or Soo hyung. He doesn’t like being petted.”

“Oh, thank you for letting me know,” I bring my hands to my chest to keep myself from touching them recklessly. But out of the corner of my eye I swear I see Kyungsoo giving Kai a death glare. “After that I think they mentioned Suho,” I watch the last two and see a tan wolf nod his head at me. I bow back before looking at the last one. With an encouraging nod of Kris I approach the last wolf who is a beautiful dark shade of brown, “I’m sorry they didn’t mention your name, you must be the well behaved one, from what I’ve heard in these brief ten minutes is that all the others are trouble.” The wolf laughs making me smile.

“I have clothes for them,” Kai mentions with a giant stack of clothing in his hands.

“Could I go talk to my pack so you can have a good talk with yours?” I ask Kris with a big smile. A chorus of growls erupt from the wolves sending me back on to the patio and into Yixing’s arms.

“They probably don’t like the idea of you leaving at the moment,” Yixing informs me.

“I think they are coming our way again anyway,” Kris sighs, “They must have felt your fear spike suddenly.”

“There they are,” Tao nods toward the forest where a black wolf appears. “Or at least one of them.”

Without a thought I book it pass my mates and right into the snow without a single thing on my mind other than for, “My pup!” I basically scream when Kookie and I get closer. I didn’t realize how much I missed him, I know it has only been a day but that is a long time for us. He tackles me to the ground and licks my face all over, making me a giggling mess beneath him. “Kookie!” I scold through my laughing.

“Hyung!” Jimin and Taehyung yell as they also bust out of the forest, behind them is the rest of my pack and Baekhyun who is just glaring at our touchy interactions.

He pushes through my pack to get to Jungkook and I, “Unless you want your throat ripped out, I suggest you remove yourself from her. We may know what is going on but our other pack members don’t and they are not in the best mood right now.”

Kookie growls.

Baekhyun’s sweet playful demeanor from yesterday seems completely different as he grabs Jungkook by the back of the neck and pulls him off me. “Come with me little wolf before the backyard becomes a battle field. You will be able to talk with your pack after we explain things,” He offers me a hand.

“Please go with him Insoo,” Namjoon quickly encourages me. “I would prefer not to fight with the black dragons.”

“I’m with Namjoon on this, please,” Yoongi almost begs, looking to the house with worried eyes. I follow his gaze back to the house to see eleven of my mates staring us down with angry blood red eyes. Jungkook whimpers with his head bowed to the obviously more powerful group, in fact looking to my pack I see that they are all backing down with their eyes to the ground. I gulp nervously but accept Baekhyun’s hand, he surprises me by just scooping me up.

“It’s freezing cold and you are out here dressed like this, what kind of mates let their mate out like this,” He mumbles mostly to himself as he carries me back across the field. “We should take this inside before she catches a cold.” He doesn’t even bother to wait for his brothers he just carries me inside like I’m a fragile little egg that is going to break. He sets me down on the cold couch before wrapping me up in the blanket that one of the others brought. Kris is kneeling in front of me peeling off the socks he had just put on me that are now soaking wet.

“No more going outside until we have proper clothes for you,” Kris declares. The wolves come in, two of them rush passed with their clothing in their teeth, Minseok and Suho, while the others stop by me. Chanyeol is the first to come right up to me, he sniffs my clothes, his nose wrinkles.

“Do I smell like my pack again?” I sniff my sleeves and only find Yixing’s sweet scent now mixing with another sweet smell, like fresh cakes.

“You reek of Yixing hyung since you slept in his room and his clothes,” Baekhyun explains as he fetches me a mug of tea. “Even thought he is also your mate, we don’t like any other alpha smell near our mate.”

“Sorry Hyung,” I reach other without a thought and stroke the silver blue wolf’s fur. He cocks his head in confusion, “Ah, the hyung thing, we will explain that when everyone is here.”

“So you need to go upstairs and get dressed,” Kris commands. I’m surprised when the big wolf just comes closer and nuzzles his snout into my stomach. “Chanyeol,” The head alpha tries again, making the younger whine.

“Don’t you want to be able to talk to me?” I tempt the wolf with a smile. He groans but quickly heads off towards the stairs, leaving the other three behind. They stare at me, Chen and Luhan are closer, within touching distance while Kyungsoo is far out of my reach. “Are you all going to transform? I actually kind of want to see you react to my past, I didn’t get to see yesterday because I passed out.”

All eyes go to Kris who already has his hands up, “It was an accident.”

“We were gone for a week and all hell breaks loose,” An unfamiliar voice snaps from the hall. Two men come in, they are about the same height but one looks much younger than the other. The last three wolves are off to transform so they can join the conversation as well. One with cat like eyes glares at Kris for a moment before looking down at me huddled on the couch and his face softens. “Hello little wolf.”

I sniff the air, “Coffee,” I hum. “You must be Minseok hyung.”

He smiles cutely, “I am, I’m very happy to meet you my lovely little wolf.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I try to stand to greet him properly but the second I try Kris’s hands are on my shoulders pushing me back into the couch.

“Your feet are freezing, how can you not notice?” The older scolds as his large hands gently massage my shoulders.

I look down at my feet, “I haven’t really noticed, I think they are numb.” I try to curl my toes with little to basically no response at my brain’s command, “Yep, they are completely numb.”

“Can you feel this?” Minseok is suddenly a lot closer, his hands are on my ankles, his touch sends a shot of electricity up my leg making me jump away. He holds his hands up, showing me that he means no harm but it’s not that I’m scared, my heart is just racing.

“I can feel that,” I whimper.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” He stands up and takes a few steps back.

“You didn’t frighten me, you shocked me,” I look down at my hands nervously.

“Do you want another bath?” Yixing offers, he joins me on the couch, sitting as close to me as possible. I see the way Minseok watches our physical interactions with irritated jealousy.

I pout, “Another one? I guess, just to warm me up, but only if you sit with me again.”

“Why him again?” Sehun pouts.

Tao joins in on the whining, “Why not one of us?”

“Because from what I’ve heard you guys can’t control yourselves around me, but lets say I give you the benefit of the doubt, do you think you can handle being locked in the same room as me while I’m completely naked and basically defenseless?” I cock a brow at them, “Kai saw me in just a towel and went complete alpha on me, do you think you can handle it?”

The two boys share an angry look but say nothing more. Baekhyun steps forward, “I can do it.”

“Okay, lets go Hyung,” I try to stand up but Yixing has his arm around my shoulders in and instance.

“She asked for me,” The older of the two snaps.

“Can both of you just come along? The more the merrier,” I suggest, hoping to defuse the situation.

“Where are we going? Can I come too?” A tall man bounces into the room, silver hair a ruffled mess, a massive smile on his handsome face. The scent of cake tickles my nose.

“Chanyeol hyung?” The other three come into the room, one with big round eyes catches my eye, “Soo hyung?” The man stops, his eyes seem to get bigger when he sees me. I can’t help but smile at him, something about this man makes me feel more warm at just the sight of him.

“Hello,” He bows his head, “I am Kyungsoo.” He makes me think of hot chocolate. From his dark brown hair to his chocolate colored eyes, heart shaped lips make me think he is a soft person but I remember Jongin’s words and curl back into myself.

“Of course, I’m sorry for speaking so informally,” I bow my head apologetically.

“Ignore him Love,” Yixing guides my gaze back to him with a soft caress of my cheek. “You look cold, lets get that water going.”

I’m about to agree when movement on the edge of the forest catches my eye, “What about my pack? Aren’t we going to explain everything?”

“What do you need to explain?” One steps forward, “Did something happen?”

I look to my six mates who already know, “Should I just say it?”

Kris sighs, “Might as well, Tao, can you go get her pack in here? Take them in the front go and down into the basement to hang out while we talk about this.”

“Why do I have to take them?” Tao pouts, earning himself a dirty look from me.

I narrow my eyes at him, “Do you have a problem with my pack?”

“Of course not!” He replies quickly followed by soft words that melt my heart, “I would just rather be up here with you.”

“How about if you are nice to my pack I’ll let you come in when I take a bath too?”

His eyes light up like fireworks, “Really?”

“Yes, but only if my pack gives you a good review so be nice.”

He nods eagerly before rushing outside. I chuckle as I watch him go to my waiting pack.

“Now what is the world is going on?” Minseok asks as he sits on my other side.

I look at Kris, “Any suggestions on where I should start off?”

“How about your name?”

#exo #exo harem #exo wolf au #exo wolf #exo mate #bts #bts wolf #Xiumin #Kris wu #Luhan #Suho #Yixing #Baekhyun #Chen #Chanyeol #Tao #Kyungsoo #Kai #Sehun #jungkook

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